


Mercy

by GatewayGirl



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Community: drapery_snarco, Exhibitionism, M/M, Werewolf, Werewolf!Draco, Werewolf!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatewayGirl/pseuds/GatewayGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a werewolf isn't so bad when you're a hero. Harry thinks it would be worse to be Severus Snape. Perhaps he should take the man in hand -- as a present to Draco, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** BDSM (all), exhibitionism, minor abuse of authority, dirty talk, a tiny bit of bestiality, and misuse of equestrian supplies. AU.
> 
> This was written for the drapery_snarco (Snape/Harry/Draco) fest on LJ, in response to the following prompt:
> 
> _Werewolf!Draco and Werewolf!Harry are lovers, but lately they've been interested in getting a third into their pack -- they're convinced Snape would make a fabulous werewolf and submissive lover. Snape still hates/is terrified of werewolves, but they're determined to not take 'no' for an answer...._
> 
> I started thinking about how Harry might become a werewolf, and then I had to claim the prompt.
> 
> **Thanks to:** Calanthe_fics for Britpicking and beta (and putting up with yet more Snape), and Clauclauclaudia for telling me it wasn't done when it wasn't. You're both wonderful!  
> 

"Clean up the blood," Harry said, as he hobbled past Draco, "then join me in the shower." He felt a pang of regret as the words trailed behind him -- his lover had looked worse than he felt. Still, it did no one any good to muddle rank, not this close to the moon. He would let Draco sleep late, he decided, and make tea for both of them, and curl up with him by the fire; that diminished his standing not at all. Certainly an alpha should provide for his pack.

The hot water sluicing over his stressed muscles felt wonderful. The shower had been designed with a rail and cushioning spells, so he didn't have to worry about falling. He had a good life, he thought -- much better than most people in his condition, even now. Draco joined him just as he finished with his hair.

"Sorted?" he asked companionably. Draco's nose wrinkled.

"I can't manage precision in this state," he said sulkily. "It's no longer _obvious_. I'll see if it needs improvement this evening, when I can _see_."

Holding on to the bar, Harry scrubbed at his legs. "Agreed. After all, it's not as if we're in hiding."

Draco responded with a tired nod and a tiny smile. "I think I have enough energy to scrub your back."

"I knew there was some reason I rescued you from Fenrir," Harry replied, and Draco, despite his exhaustion, snorted with laughter.

"The only way anyone would _ever _do that for you, of course," he drawled, as he took the sponge and began to rub in a pleasant spiral up Harry's back. His voice sounded almost normal, but his hip was braced against the rail. "I think that bird we brought home is too contaminated to use. I left it outside, and if nothing takes it, I'll remove it tomorrow, okay?"

"It was obviously killed by an animal?"

"Oh, yes! That's the problem; one of us bit through the viscera. Pity -- it was a plump pheasant."

"All right, then." In pleasure, Harry shifted his human muscles under the spray for a moment. When he had to put a hand on the rail he did his best to make it look casual. "Turn around. I'll get your back too."

"Mm," Draco said happily, a moment later. "I knew there was some reason I allowed you to rescue me from Fenrir."

"Lucky for you that I'm an obsessive hunter."

"Lucky for all of Europe, I think."

Discomfort and amusement warred in Harry. "Never has so much depended on one man's character flaws," he quipped. He brushed his mouth along the line of his lover's shoulder blade. "Come on, babe -- let's go to bed."

"You needn't sound so seductive," Draco complained. "We're just going to sleep."

"Sleep close and warm," Harry countered firmly. "And that's so much better than alone."

 

"Harry?"

The soft voice was close, and familiar. Only two outsiders could get into Harry's house without his explicit consent. Without opening his eyes, he reached to the side and settled his hand in bushy hair. "Mm?"

"I brought breakfast," she said. "Pork pie, but fresh from the farm market. Was it bad, this month?"

"Just tiring." His eyes opened a crack for a glimpse of her face outlined by the light that leaked in the edges of his window blinds, and then, despite his intention, they dropped closed again. Despite his words, he ached all over, but after nine years, that was hardly worth mentioning.

"Ron's home with the baby," she volunteered, still at a whisper. "He sends his love."

"Hmph."

"Oh, all right, not in those words. But that's what it amounts to." She stroked his forehead in a motherly way. "You'll call us when you feel better?"

"Of course."

Draco turned onto his back. "Granger?" he asked groggily.

"Good morning, Malfoy!" she answered with aggressive perkiness.

"Girls!" he huffed, in much the same manner that he might have once said more offensive things, and he rolled away. Harry wasn't sure he had been awake for any of it. He cracked his eyes open enough to see that Hermione was smiling, and then sank back into blessed sleep.

When they woke, they found the promised pork pie, with a warm bowl of apple sauce beside it. Harry wasn't surprised to find a platter of cut vegetables under a preserving spell in the cupboard; Hermione knew that his stomach couldn't handle that now, but she liked to provide them for later.

"Fruit?" Draco questioned, wrinkling his nose at the apple sauce.

"It's an experiment," Harry explained. "She thought we might be able to handle it cooked -- something about the chemicals in cooked apple."

"Chem...?" Draco's eyebrows came down. "Isn't that a Muggle thing? She's not adding Muggle things to it, is she?"

"Not added. It's ..." Harry shrugged. Hermione's explanations of the word had never been terribly clear. "It seems to be ... everything is made from things that you can't see, and these things have properties."

As he sliced the pie in two, Draco nodded. "Of course. Apples are the best fruit for maturity elements in potions, for example, and blood ties to the person it came from, as well as to life in general. You can't see that, but it's there."

"Something like that," Harry agreed, relieved to be back on familiar ground.

"So, are you going to try it?" Draco asked. Clearly, apple sauce was the Gryffindor's problem.

Harry shrugged. "A little, if smelling it doesn't make me feel ill."

It didn't. He scooped a tiny amount onto his plate, dipped his pie in it, and licked it from the crust.

"Well?" Draco asked.

"It might be safe. I think that's enough for a first try."

For a while, they ate in silence. When only a few bites of pie were left, Harry got up, swaying slightly as he adjusted to being on his feet. "Tea?" he asked, belatedly remembering his plans of the morning.

"That would be lovely, Harry, thank you." Draco smiled at him.

His spirits lifting, Harry smiled back and went to fetch milk from the cold cupboard before he started the kettle. He drank his own tea black, and it was easy to forget Draco's milk when he was tired.

"Do you think Black will call, this moon?" Draco asked idly, while Harry filled the kettle.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" Harry responded. As he set the kettle over the fire, he tried to think when he had last seen his nominal godfather.

"Four moons."

"Ah." Harry shrugged. "They must have moved further away, then."

"Perhaps someone spotted Lupin."

Harry shrugged. He had liked Lupin as a professor, but he had never been able to forgive the man for infecting him with lycanthropy and putting an end to his brief hopes for a normal life. He had just started to glimpse it -- he had friends, and skills, and people who liked him -- and then someone who supposedly cared about him had dealt him another horrible, permanent blow, just because he had the attention span of a gnat. The longer Harry was a werewolf, the madder it seemed to him that Lupin had been able to forget the approaching moon for even a second, never mind what must have been at least half an hour, especially when in the presence of children in his care.

He was saved from having to reply by the fireplace flare that was their first warning of someone trying to reach them by Floo. Before the bell on the mantel could start ringing, Harry flicked his wand at the grate. Magic was harder than physical motion at this stage, and although the Floo opened, the kettle stayed where it was rather than swinging to the side. The head of another of his former professors appeared in the flames, narrowly missing the cast iron vessel.

"Mr. Potter," it said, inclining very slightly. The words were scrupulously polite, but Harry fancied that he could still see hatred snapping in those black eyes. "Mr. Malfoy. Are you recovered enough to report?"

Life as a social outcast had not improved Severus Snape any. His hair hung in greasy hanks, neglected enough to have formed knots at the base, which they never had at school. His face was gaunt as well as sallow, and there was a touch of paranoia in the way his attention twitched to the side. Of course, Harry realized, the kettle was still there, steam now rising from the spout, but he wasn't willing to get up and move it for _Snape_, not when it had taken the threat of Azkaban to train the man to address him respectfully.

A solution occurred to him, and he gestured at the fire. "Draco, would you pour the water, please?"

"Of course, Harry," Draco answered, emphasizing Harry's first name ever so slightly. He rose gracefully and crossed to the fire. When he reached over, his arm nearly brushed Snape's filthy hair, but he extricated the kettle without incident, and poured the water into the teapot that Harry had prepared. Afterwards, he went to wash his hands.

While he was doing that, Harry nodded at Snape. "Now would be fine," he said blandly.

He saw another flash of real feeling at that, but Snape covered it quickly, lowering his face in what was almost a bow. Pleasing Harry wasn't an explicit condition of his parole, but they both knew the difference between theory and practice, whether in potions or in the Ministry.

"As we discussed, I made a minor alteration to this month's formula. Did you observe any difference in the change or the aftermath?"

Snape would never say in advance _what _he had done to the formula, or what effect it was supposed to have. In theory, this was to not prejudice Harry and Draco's observations. In practice, Harry knew it to be another variable in the balance of power between them. He could send Snape back to Azkaban with a few choice words, but Snape could poison him at any moon ... if he became so miserable that he was willing to die himself.

"Deeper exhaustion," Draco volunteered. "I was virtually useless after the change, and then I slept longer and more deeply." He cocked his head to the side. "I may be better for it now."

Harry considered that. He hadn't actually tried charms, other than opening the Floo, but perhaps.... He flicked his wand at the teapot and succeeded in levitating it over to the table without spilling a drop. Unwilling to risk pouring with magic, he reached out to assist with his left hand as he lowered it down to the table. "Yes," he agreed, while pouring, "I'm not entirely steady, but better than usual for less than a day past the change."

Triumph glowed fiercely on Snape's face. "Good. The Veela nails work."

Draco's face crinkled in disgust. "Veela _nails_?"

"For flexibility in shedding and assuming humanity," Snape said pedantically, but Draco's response was not academic.

"I am not _assuming_," he snarled, surging to his feet. "I _am _human."

"Most of the time," Snape shot back, but his sense of self-preservation reasserted itself. "Perhaps I misspoke. However, it is the same transition, and the power of a creature with more control over that transi--"

"I see the point," Harry interrupted, unwilling to have them fight. Draco's subsequent guilt would not be worth his own moments of pleasure. "Draco, he's just being rude. Ignore it." He looked steadily into Snape's visible rage. "It seems to have worked, to some extent."

"Thank you," Snape said. For a moment, he almost sounded sincere, but then he grimaced, withdrawing a few inches. "If you would both give me details...."

"You could come through," Harry said deliberately.

Snape did not quite manage to contain his shudder, and Harry felt a surge of bitter satisfaction.

"That will not be necessary. Now, on a scale of one to five...."

 

The next day, they woke at noon. Harry had to admit that he felt capable, if not comfortable, which was quite good for his second day. Draco, who was usually in worse shape, seemed to be completely recovered. They were just finishing their toast when the first bark sounded at the kitchen door.

"Your errant mutt is here," Draco commented.

Harry sighed. "He _is _my godfather, Draco."

"Some godfather, running off with the man who attacked you."

"He cast a healing spell and signaled the school first, risking arrest, and then led off the Dementors, risking worse. And I can't blame him for having more loyalty to a many-years lover and longer term friend than to someone he'd barely met, no matter whose son I was." Harry spoke over the second bark, and at the third got to his feet.

"He'll want favors," Draco warned.

Ignoring him, Harry opened the door.

"Hey, Padfoot," he said. The great head of the dog came higher than Harry's waist, and he could never resist stroking the thick fur, an act as comforting as it was automatic. "Come in."

The dog bounded in, tongue lolling out. As soon as the door shut behind him, he turned into a man. As always, Harry envied and admired that easy, casual change of form. He was wearing Muggle clothes, Harry noted: black jeans that had faded at his seat and knees and above a wallet; and a loose-woven collared shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes. His hair fell over the collar only at the back, and his face was tanned.

"Harry!" he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "You're looking good."

"I might say the same for you," Harry returned, smiling back. "Shall I make more tea?"

"Lovely," Sirius said promptly. "I'm dog tired."

Harry's mouth quirked as he put the kettle on. "Long trip?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I suppose not."

"How are things here?"

Harry shrugged. "About the same. I'm still heading up the Council of Cursed Beings, so it's been a busy season, but Draco does the difficult jobs--"

"Wizengamot meetings and Ministry functions?" Draco asked dryly.

"Persuading people to do things," Harry translated.

"I invoke your reputation more readily than you do, that's all." Draco made a face. "_You _face the vampires."

Harry shrugged and cast about for actual news. "Had Hermione had the baby, last time you were by?"

Sirius grinned. "Just," he said. "Still healthy, I take it?"

"Oh yes. She figured out the full use of her lungs quickly enough."

"Good," Sirius said with a sharp nod. "A quiet baby is trouble later, or so well-meaning ladies used to tell your Mum."

"Mm." Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. Had he been quiet or loud? He had the impression he had been quiet for the Dursleys.

Draco brought the tea to the table. He poured for Harry, but then put the teapot down. Sirius gave him a sharp look, but poured for himself without waiting to see if Harry would. For a few moments, the only sound was spoons touching softly to fine china.

"Remus had a difficult moon," Sirius said. Anxiety raised the pitch of his voice. Harry held back sympathy and anger both and took a sip of his tea.

"Did he, now?" Draco said, the words dripping with acid. "What a pity he is a fugitive, then, unable to buy Wolfsbane potion -- or did you get him some caustic crap off the black market?"

A red flush of rage rose up their guest's face, but he kept his voice quiet and his head low as he spoke to Harry. "Harry. It's been almost ten years, and he's still miserable about what he did to you. Would you please consider giving him your pardon, so I can at least take care of him properly?"

"It doesn't matter, you know," Draco interjected. "Pardoned or not, he would be _killed _if he showed his face on the street. He is known, and Harry is adored."

"We wouldn't return," Sirius said quickly. "I swear we wouldn't. But where we're living, there's a limit on how long a werewolf can be prosecuted for a non-fatal attack, so if he wasn't in danger of being extradited--"

"You're somewhere in America, then." Draco smiled with vicious triumph. "You wouldn't get that tan any other place that has that."

Sirius froze. The shock on his face faded to rueful acceptance. "It's a big place," he said quietly.

"Mm." Draco stretched his arms. "But again, there's that tan, in March. Do you know that in some states the time limit for prosecution for an attack on a human is shorter than that for an attack on livestock?"

Sirius stared.

Harry snorted. Sirius had obviously not accounted for Draco's work comparing Britain's werewolf laws to others around the world. Sensing Draco preparing for another strike, he decided to step in. "I can see that."

"Oh?" Sirius asked. He looked worried.

"Well, yeah. It's not as urgent to the human self, so it's harder to _remember _on Wolfsbane. I expect they think that someone who can go ten years without attacking a human probably has improved their system enough not to do that, but maybe not enough to not kill a sheep, which, you know, people eat, really."

Standing, Draco stretched again, lengthening his lean body. He wasn't as bulky as Sirius Black, but he was young, and quick, and a werewolf. "Having made your plea," he said, "_again_, perhaps you should go."

"Wait," Harry said. Draco huffed, but sat without complaint. Sirius looked nervously at him and then back at Harry. He licked his lips.

Harry sighed and evaluated the matter. _Again_, as Draco had said, and this did come up every year or so, but that didn't mean it was the same. Lupin would be in his mid-forties, now -- still young, for a wizard, but old for a werewolf who had gone most of his life without the Wolfsbane potion. Even during the few months he had taken it, it had not eased the transition as much as it did now. Snape, in the three years that he had brewed for Harry as a student, and the five-plus years he had done so as a condition of his parole, had improved the formula considerably. As the silence stretched, hope trembled on Sirius's face, while Draco's stayed frozen with aloof disdain.

Finally, Harry set his hands down on the table. "I'll think it over," he said, although he knew he had already decided. His mind was moving ahead with what he would need -- his solicitor, a Ministry witness, his own witness -- Hermione, he thought, as she would approve of his mercy, rather than thinking it weakness. "Contact me at the dark of the moon, and I will give you my answer."

Sirius smiled bravely. "Thank you," he said. "I mean that. Even if-- well. Thank you for considering it, Harry, really. You're a good man."

When Sirius left, Harry wilted with exhaustion. He waited for Draco to criticize, but Draco just came around behind him and laid his hands gently on Harry's shoulders. After a moment, he began to press in at the tight muscles there.

"You're going to do it, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I expect I am," Harry admitted. "After all, I've never wanted him in prison -- or dead -- and he'll be safer with Wolfsbane than without."

"Not if he doesn't take it," Draco pointed out, but now that Sirius was gone, there was no real rancor in it.

"Do you want to argue it with me?" Harry asked. Draco usually knew when he needed that.

"No." Draco's hands stopped. "I helped you pass that law, remember? I agree that the victim -- once an adult -- should have the right to extend clemency." His fingers clenched. "Mind you, if I ever _see _the bastard...."

"Agreed," Harry said. "I'll make that clear. This is a pardon, not forgiveness." He let his head fall back, and Draco tilted forward, looking him in the eyes. Some things stayed human, Harry thought, mindful of how that held no challenge between them. "You know what we need?" he said. "A pack."

To his surprise, Draco stiffened. "Am I not sufficient?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Actually, watching you with Black, I was thinking what a good beta you'd make. I never had to bring him in line." He grinned. "Wouldn't you like to have someone beneath you?"

In a telling motion, Draco licked his lips. Harry laughed. "Hm. Who do we know who'd be good?"

Draco, his manner thoughtful, began rubbing his shoulders again. "I can't think of anyone -- amongst the wolves, I mean. Katya is pleasant, but you'd take her to bed, or at least want to, and I couldn't endure that."

"No?" In his confusion, Harry twisted around. "You didn't mind Barry."

Draco shrugged, the motion leaving his shoulders down, and slipped back into his chair. "He's a man. I can compete with men. Besides, you were learning things."

In contrast, Harry's shrug was pure nonchalance, dismissing the issue. "You can compete just as well with women, I'm sure."

"But a child?" Draco said wryly. "If it were to happen?"

Harry hesitated. He wanted to say no, that his devotion to a child -- and he was fairly sure it would be devotion -- would not extend to its other parent, but he wasn't sure it would work that way. "No women," he said instead, and was rewarded by seeing Draco's tension ebb. "So, does that eliminate all the werewolves we know?"

"I think so," Draco said. Delicately, he cleared his throat. "Were you considering, hm, making your own?"

Denial halted on the tip of Harry's tongue. "I could," he said. "For the right candidate." To his alarm, his blood was starting to rush at the prospect. Too long without sex, perhaps -- by the end of his moon-weakness, a stiff breeze could arouse him, but surely the thought of biting a person, bringing his teeth and curse into blood -- _that _should not.

"Hm. Might I suggest Severus?"

"_Snape_?" Draco's suggestion hauled Harry back to the present. "Severus Snape, moody, domineering bastard, won't wash?"

Draco tilted his head, making his hair catch the afternoon sunlight that streamed in the back window. "I think he's deeply submissive, really. The problem is, he doesn't understand that, so he goes about satisfying it in all the wrong ways, so it's never actually pleasant, and he doesn't learn what he wants."

_But you could show him _remained tantalizingly unspoken. Harry had to collect himself to speak. "And your evidence for this ... theory?"

"Consider," Draco confided, leaning forward. "He signed up to serve Voldemort. Even if he didn't realize the man's madness, he did this _as a half-blood_. He knew he'd be everyone's whipping boy, whether he admitted it to himself or not. He was not only putting himself below the Dark Lord, but below people like my father."

"But as a teacher--"

"As a teacher, he bullied the students, but just, I think, because he was unhappy. He took the job -- as I know now -- to serve Dumbledore--"

"In restitution."

"Yes, but it was restitution by abasing himself, really, wasn't it? I mean, teaching was beneath him; he's always thought so, as far as I can see. And for all his scheming, he never takes what he actually _wants_. I mean, I'm sure he wanted _me_, that week we were on the run-- Every time I was in a position to tell, he was aroused."

"He was probably too busy trying to get you away to make a move."

"I was too stupid to tell him to suck me, you mean."

Harry laughed. "Should _I _be jealous?" The question would have been more threatening if it hadn't swelled with arousal.

Draco licked his lips again. "Mm. I'd never let him do to me the things you do."

Harry leaned forward, close enough to hear Draco's breathing. "Like what? Tell me."

"Bind me," Draco said raggedly. "Flog me. Take away my sight, my wand. Tell me what to do."

"Mm. And if I were to tell you to suck him?"

Draco's eyes closed and his color heightened. "I... Yes. I'd want him to hear you command me, though. To know it was _you _\--I'm yours."

Pleased, Harry squirmed in his chair. "That would bring him round to anything. You're brilliant with your mouth." He stood and walked behind Draco. From there, he ran his lips over Draco's ear and whispered. "He should watch you first -- watch how you submit to me, see how much you like it."

Draco moaned. "Please, Harry."

"Please what?" Harry, never patient, was pushing at Draco's back.

"Anything."

"Forward. Pull yourself onto the table. All the way." While he still had the control, Harry sent the tea things gently to safety. Priceless Malfoy china clinked down against the pitted ceramic of the sink while his eyes stayed greedily on Draco sliding onto the table and then squirming forward, belly to the polished wood, until he could grasp the far edge.

"Very nice." Harry strolled around the edge of the table until he was at Draco's head. Leaning forward, he grasped the hem of Draco's shirt and pulled it up, baring his back. Carefully, he smoothed Draco's fair hair down under the rumpled fabric. "You look so lovely there," he said softly. "Do you want to know what I'll do to you?"

"No." The folds of Draco's shirt muffled his voice, but his tone was almost defiant in its certainty. "Please."

"God, I love you," Harry said fiercely. "More than anyone can imagine." Wordlessly, he Summoned Draco's favorite blindfold -- the soft one lined with rabbit fur from Draco's first mindful kill -- from the bedroom. For the moment, he set it on Draco's back, between his shoulder blades, as he contemplated Draco's clothing. It was sexy, having it bunched up like that, but it was also in the way, and he didn't want to need to assess the risk of strangulation while he played. With a soft unfastening charm, he undid Draco's buttons, and then spread his shirt to the sides, preserving the half-dressed look without all the awkwardness.

"Better access," he said, pushing down Draco's collar to kiss at his neck. "You're so beautiful."

"Thank you, Harry," Draco said breathlessly.

"My pleasure." From a long dragging stroke of fur to skin, Harry lifted the blindfold and set it into place, Draco raising his head enough to provide clearance. Harry tied the long black ribbons into place over his fair hair. "Such a pretty thing," he soothed, and without explanation, moved away.

Draco, he knew, could hear him opening drawers and shifting things within them, and walking back. He wouldn't know what Harry had selected, though -- an exciting departure from Harry's usual toys. Harry felt that the kitchen ought to have a plethora of useful implements, but he wasn't finding much to his liking. He tried a bamboo skewer against his bared arm, but it didn't have the sting that he had expected. The wooden spatula would probably work, but he wanted something more pliant. Perhaps he wasn't in the right mood for innovation.

Next to the spatula, he spied the spring-hinged wooden tongs, and grinned to himself. He had no idea how they would feel, but they should make a load of noise when the sides clacked together. He was willing to use them without testing, just to see Draco flinch.

Quietly, he returned to Draco's side and ran a hand down his back and over his still-clothed arse. "There," he soothed, and Draco breathed in, anticipating a move. Harry brought the tongs down hard.

It was a spectacular noise. Draco yelped, and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"How does it feel?" he asked. "I didn't test, for obvious reasons."

"You could now," Draco pointed out, which Harry couldn't argue with. He didn't like using things he didn't know the feel of, really. He snapped the tongs against his thigh.

"Huh. Not much sensation, for all that noise."

"_Quite _the noise though. What is it?"

"The salad tongs," Harry said, and Draco laughed. With some irritation, Harry realized that he had lost the element of mystery. "You know," he declared, "I'm not interested in experimenting today." He undid his belt, knowing that Draco would recognize the clack of the buckle and the soft shushing of the leather being pulled through his belt loops. Draco moaned.

"Snape would be frightened," Harry said, "watching me do this." Harry flipped the leather so the curved side was down, and trailed it over Draco's fine trousers. "Give me your arse."

In a scramble of motion, Draco lifted his rear end, the side of his face still pressed against the wood, and let go of the table edge long enough to push the garment down to his thighs. He moved his bum in an enticing little waggle while it was still up in the air, and then settled down again.

"He knows you wouldn't hurt me," he said breathlessly.

"Yes, but he would say it was because I was a werewolf. Violent." Harry brought the belt down on Draco's skin -- a gentle strike, but one that left a line of pink across the white skin. "No control."

Draco gasped at the second lash, but then caught himself. "You have control. He doesn't want-- Ah! -- to see it. Gods."

Talking suddenly became a matter for later. The belt was heavy, and Harry kept his blows on Draco's arse, laying line after line there and feeling his own blood rise. Draco squirmed against the table, gasping and sometimes yelping, until Harry pinned him with a hand on the back.

"Harry."

"I was thinking," Harry said, dropping the belt and running the fingers of his other hand along the ridges he had raised from Draco's arse cheeks, "I could summon something a little more precise ... or I could just climb up there and fuck you." He was tempted to make it Draco's choice, but Draco had said he wanted to be told what to do. Deciding, Harry stepped back and picked up the belt. "Off the table," he said. "On the floor, hands and knees."

Draco squirmed back off the table, reaching with his bare feet for the floor. His trousers slid to his ankles, but he ignored them as he dropped to his knees, and then forward onto his hands. The blindfold stayed on.

"Good." Harry slid the belt through its buckle and looped it over Draco's head. Draco froze, but Harry wasn't surprised. He had never done anything of this sort before. Carefully, Harry slid the buckle down until the belt was loosely set around Draco's neck, than cast a charm to keep it from constricting further. "There, love. It won't tighten. Now you have a leash." He stepped on Draco's trousers. "Let's go for a walk."

After a moment of squirming forward to extract himself from the pinned trousers, Draco started a hesitant crawl. Harry gave a little tug to give him his direction. "Come on, now. Head up!"

At the reminder that he could be seen, Draco's stance changed entirely, his back straightening as his head came up. He lifted a hand like a pointer's paw, and he stepped out after Harry.

Their home, Stag's Run Lodge, had started out as a hunting lodge. The old part of the house was a long, stone, high-roofed hall, with the kitchen at the back. In the nineteenth century, someone had doubled the width of the structure, adding four bedrooms, and in the twentieth, the room alongside the kitchen had been divided in half, with the back half becoming a large bathroom, and the rest enlarging the adjoining bedroom. That was nominally Harry's, although both of them slept there, and both had wardrobes there. The bed in Draco's room had long since given way to a roman couch, two armchairs, a writing desk, and six glass-fronted bookcases, all from Malfoy Manor.

As they crossed from the slate floor of the kitchen to the wood plank of the new addition, Harry guessed that Draco expected to be taken to their bedroom. Indeed, he had to tug twice to get Draco to turn down the corridor instead.

"That's it," he said. "Don't try to guess, just follow. Planning is _not _your job, right now."

Draco hesitated, and then dipped his head in a nod. When he followed, it was more actively. He didn't even pause in front of his room. Harry was pleased.

"Stop now," he said, just past the door to the guest room. He crouched down and stroked Draco's skin. It was cool, and he was about to cast a warming charm when a different idea stopped him. He cast the charm on his hand instead, and stroked Draco's back and legs, giving him warmth with the touch. "You're doing well. I expect it's disorienting, isn't it? Not as much sense of how far you've come as if you were walking."

Draco nodded again and rubbed his head against Harry. Laughing, Harry stood. "All right. Turn left."

For a moment, Draco almost turned right, but then caught himself. Harry shook his head. _Still thinking, is he? _He led Draco into the living room, and Draco gave a little sigh of relief when he crossed onto the first carpet. Harry made a note to himself to check Draco's knees when they were done with this.

He took Draco across a narrow gap of bare floor, and then to another carpet, and from there around the sofa in front of the small side-hearth. There, he knelt in front of Draco and released the belt, enlarging the loop and pulling it off him. He stroked a hand up Draco's chest, guiding him up, and then kissed him, lingering over the warmth of his mouth and reminding him who they were. Finally, he pulled away, and stood.

"Draco. We're at the sofa. I am going to sit down, and then I want you across my lap, understood? You are welcome to speak, shout, comment -- anything but ask me what happens next."

Draco nodded. "Yes, Harry," he said belatedly, his voice oddly soft from the silence.

"Good." After casting a warming spell on the sofa, and charming the fire alight, Harry undid his trousers, let them fall, and stepped out of them. He sat down, conscious of the feel of the plush cushions against his bare arse and thighs. His shirt and jumper felt peculiarly solid.

"Join me now," he said.

Draco turned toward his voice, and then had to feel for the front of the sofa. Harry used the time to wordlessly Summon lubricant from their room. He was just setting the jar down when Draco's hand encountered his leg. For a moment, it just rested there, and then Draco leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Harry's shin. From there, he climbed up onto the sofa and crawled over Harry's lap. "Mm," he said, settling down with a wiggle that rubbed his hip against Harry's cock, and his cock against Harry's thigh. "Skin."

"Why should you have all the fun?" Harry answered teasingly, opening the jar as quietly as possible.

"Oh, you haven't been enjoying this?" Draco challenged.

"I have, of course," Harry replied, "but the physical side has been mostly yours. Now...." He ran his warmed hand down Draco's legs, first one, than the other. "You were told not to think while being led, yet you still tried to turn into the guest room."

"I just thought--" Draco stopped abruptly, realizing what he had said.

"Yes. You did." Harry brought his hand down on the dark lines across Draco's arse, and Draco yelped. "Now, what do you say?"

"I ... I'm sorry I tried to anticipate where you were going?"

Harry spanked the other cheek, a little bit harder. "The right idea, but you'll have to do better."

"I'm sorry I was thinking when I was supposed to be following you. I'll try not to next time."

"Much better," Harry stated, and he stroked his hand gently over Draco's arse. A quick lift for lube and he did it again, this time drawing his slicked thumb down Draco's crack.

"Oh," Draco sighed.

"Mm." Harry teased around Draco's opening, rolling the pad of his thumb around it without pushing in.

"Oh," Draco repeated, more strongly. "Will you-- I mean, I'd _like _you to fuck me."

"Would you?" Harry teased, sliding his thumb in. Draco took him too often to need this much care, but Harry didn't want to let him up, just yet.

"Very much," Draco said promptly, rocking his hips and rubbing his erection against Harry. "It's been days, and you're not too tired now, I can tell you're not. Don't you want me?"

"Oh yeah," Harry answered, coating his hand. He pushed two fingers up in place of his thumb. "I want you. Want you over the arm of the sofa so I can look at all those marks on your arse while I move inside it."

Draco hesitated. "Blindfold?" he said, not quite a request so much as a reminder of factors involved.

"Yeah, that would make it easier, wouldn't it?" With a final light slap to Draco's arse, Harry made his decision. "Up. Back on your heels."

Draco moved back, and Harry reached behind his head to undo the ribbons. He didn't have to tell Draco to kiss him; something in his face was permission enough, and Draco leaned forward enough for that and twisted into it, nearly falling back into Harry's lap. Harry nudged him back. "Up. There's lube on the table. Get me slick enough for you, and then move into position."

"A delightful plan," Draco agreed, and reached for the jar. The charmed top allowed a certain amount out at once; he spilled it twice into his hand, filling his palm with a glistening pool. Harry spread his arms along the sofa back, and parted his knees to give Draco full access, and smirking, Draco dipped a finger in his glistening reservoir of lube and drew a wet line from behind Harry's bollocks to the tip of his cock.

"Ah!"

"I love the way your skin moves when I do that." Draco dipped two fingers in and swirled them around the head. "Of course, you might like this more if you'd remembered a warming charm."

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"Why? You know I don't care much, back there, anyway." Draco picked up Harry's wand and warmed the liquid. After painting four lines up Harry's cock, he caught the tip between two fingers and drew a painstaking clockwise spiral up the shaft.

"Are you going to add in runes?" Harry managed, his voice tight.

"Hm. No, I suppose not." In a sudden move, Draco brought his still cupped hand to Harry's erection, and smeared what was left all over it, so that the excess dripped down to the edge of his thighs and down the cleft of his bollocks into the crack of his arse. After four tight, fast strokes, he pulled away, scrambled over Harry's lap, and snugged up against the arm rest. The book on the side table was quickly lowered to the floor and he lay his chest across it, raising his bum. The lines from Harry's belt were even more impressive now. Harry admired them while he positioned the head of his cock.

"You're so good," he said. "I could stretch you more, and go in fast."

"Just -- just in," Draco said.

"Yeah?" Harry leaned into it -- just a little, pushing, but not forcing. "Like this? In slowly, letting you open for me?"

"Merlin, yes, like that."

It was agonizingly, gloriously, slow. Only when he'd made an inch did Harry pull back, redistribute the lube, and start again, immediately gaining ground. "Draco. My love."

"Yes, yes, love you, harder!" Draco babbled, and he pushed fractionally harder, watching until his head had sunk fully into Draco's buttocks. Again, he pulled back, got slicker, pushed in again. Draco rewarded him with a wailing cry.

"I have to move, baby." Harry took a measure of lube and reached under Draco, smearing it up and down his cock as if he were polishing a broomstick. He began to pump in and out, feeling the tight ring around his cock loosen slightly.

"Yeah, brilliant," Draco panted. "Fuck me so hard, Potter. You always want me, don't you? Want to bury your cock in me."

"Yeah, you," Harry answered. "Wanted to fuck you since before I knew what it was." He was thrusting in faster now, letting his body choose the rhythm. "Sniffing after your arse without a fucking clue." The wolf had known better.

"Yeah you, yeah more," Draco chanted, cried, and Harry hammered into him, memories and plans fading away into heat and constriction and scent and pleasure, and he roared as it surged, and panted as it faded, working at Draco until he followed after.

Sometimes, sex left Harry feeling peaceful and unconcerned. At others, that same peace changed something in his mind and made all his thoughts clearer, and he was suddenly possessed of theories, or worse, plans.

"I shouldn't use my belt in front of Snape," he said.

"Mm?"

"I think his father may have done that to him."

Draco's eyes opened at that. "Oh." He yawned. "A flogger then. The Imperial Flogger."

Harry laughed. The Imperial Flogger was Hermione's fault. When she had found out she was pregnant, she had apparated in unannounced, eager to share the news with Harry, and had been horrified to find him laying into Draco with a riding crop. She had railed at him for abusing his power, and then when Draco had -- woozily, Harry had to admit -- insisted that he was enjoying it, told him he was obviously punishing himself for what he had done in school. For three days after that, Harry had been unable to contact her, and then she had shown up, unannounced again, with an apology and a box.

"I've been researching," she had said, firmly the scholar, "and have found that some people _do _enjoy that, and it doesn't mean anything's wrong with you, and I brought something to show I'm sorry for not trusting you."

The 'something' had been a flogger -- but not like any that Harry had ever seen before. This had tails of scarlet leather, with a haft encased in purple suede and bound near the top and bottom with gold braid, and finished at the top with a gold medallion. It was so clearly made for looks that Harry had been afraid it would be useless, but it wasn't. It wasn't harsh, certainly, but it could build up a good sting. Draco's mocking nickname for it had taken a more affectionate tone after Harry had subjected him to a long session with it.

"That might be the best one to use on him, too," he said thoughtfully. "If I'm careful about wrap, I can work him up slowly."

"You're good at that."

Harry paused to look at Draco and then to kiss him. "Are we serious about this?" he asked. "I mean, he's still Snape."

"But there'd be advantages," Draco coaxed. "You could make him wash, for one."

Harry laughed. "And we'd be doing him a favor, really. I mean, he'd get over his fear of werewolves, right?"

"And imagine the advances he could make in his research with first-hand experience of the Wolfsbane potion."

"Mm." _That would benefit all of us. _"Of course, he'd want to publish." Harry considered."I suppose I wouldn't object to him having status outside the pack."

"That's just status _to _the pack, really."

Harry looked at Draco, and his chest rumbled with a low laugh. "Slytherins!"

 

_He pulled off his robes, desperate for air, for space. There was sweat on his skin, and then there was pain, and then he was fully in the forest night, as a wolf should be. His mind was racing and hard to control, but even that was precious; this was the last time; the next moon would vanquish thought entirely. The traitor's scent was close. He hunted._

_He found. His prey was among others, protected by an agitated herd, and he crept forward cautiously, knowing the threat, but unwilling to call off the hunt. A shift of view and he saw the herd's sport: his rival, his everyday quarry, dripping with blood that didn't quite cover the sharp scent of his fear, pinned under an evil enemy, who mounted him, not in honor, but to amuse the herd._

_Maddened by fury, he charged. The evil one was too engrossed in his pleasure to turn in time to meet him. He felt bone and muscle give under the impact before his attack was returned, too late. Fur in his mouth, and blood, and then death was his servant. The herd cheered, then muttered, and then disappeared in pops, leaving him and his new Protected alone in the woods._

_He licked blood, soothing._

 

Harry woke. He had thrashed free of the covers and was freezing cold. Draco, who knew better than to touch him in such a state, was standing clear of the bed, wrapped in a blanket, saying his name, urgently and steadily, again and again.

"Here," Harry answered. His heart was racing. He forced himself to sit and begin straightening the bedclothes, but the shadows in the room still drew his eye, and his mind wanted to sort them into threat or prey.

"Which one?" Draco asked wryly, stepping into range.

"Rescuing you," Harry answered. Draco's body was soothingly white as he parted the blanket to slip back into bed -- nothing at all like the bruised and torn creature that Harry had pulled his robes over with his teeth after the Death Eaters had left him to die.

"I think you may remember more of that then I do," Draco said wryly. "After the bite, everything blurs behind the pain."

They said the same things, some nights, and sometimes new ones, but never much. After six years, there were still things left unsaid.

"I was hunting Snape."

"I know."

_That _had come out early.

Harry curled himself into blankets and safety and gathered his courage. "I remember the taste of your blood."

"Oh."

After a moment's stiffness, Draco pressed close. "You licked me," he said, returning to things said before. "I remember wondering when you -- this wolf -- would bite."

"Yeah." Harry took a deep breath. "I ... I've never bitten anyone. Human, I mean. Fenrir was in wolf form, and Voldemort -- well, Voldemort wasn't anymore. A human...." He could imagine it even as he spoke -- sinking long teeth past tight, thin, human skin. His hand trailed over Draco's thigh.

"Mm," Draco murmured. "It doesn't have to be real -- Snape, I mean." He tilted his head back as Harry licked his neck. "It can just be our fantasy."

Harry made love to him as tenderly as if he were still wounded.


	2. Chapter 2

The month passed without either Draco or Harry mentioning the matter again. It was when Snape appeared in their Floo, two days before the full moon with their flasks of potion in hand, that the thought resurfaced in Harry's awareness. Suddenly, he wanted to smell Snape's fear.

"Come through," he commanded, stepping back. Draco, who had been reaching for the flasks, stepped back also.

Snape's face scrunched in as if he had bitten into a lime. "I hardly think it necessary--"

"To obey me?" Harry challenged. "Come through."

A flash of_ something_, gone too quickly to identify, crossed Snape's face, and a moment later, he stepped out of the flames.

"Mr. Potter." His head lowered, either in respect, or to avoid Legilimency. Harry could hear his heart racing, but the stink of fear and unwashed human overpowered anything else scent might have told him.

In a flash of old anger, Harry moved closer. "Why so afraid, Snape? I'm safe for another fifty hours."

That brought the man's head up, his eyes flashing. "You are _never _safe," he snarled. "I know your kind. I watched Fenrir at sport with--"

"A psychopath," Draco interjected. "Such a fine measure of werewolves. Perhaps we should use Macnair as a measure of uncursed men and say none of them are safe either?"

Snape's face hardened. "None are."

"Still, I doubt you smell like this when talking with apothecaries," Harry observed mildly. At Draco's annoyed look, he realized that scent may not have been the most tactful indicator of fear to mention. With a wry smile, he reached forward and took the flasks from Snape. "Thank you. You may go."

"Wait," Snape said quickly. "As you did not respond equally to last month's changes, I customized the potions. The one with the red string on the handle is for you."

Harry's eyes met Draco's. Draco turned toward his old Head of House.

"If it harms him, I will kill you."

"I know." Snape's fear did not increase. His heartbeat steadied.

"Slowly."

"It will not. It is intended to be more efficacious, nothing more."

Draco nodded. "Go."

 

_He stared up at the colorless moon and tried to figure out what was wrong. He wasn't here, as a wolf should be; he was somewhere else. He hardly felt the world about him. The other wolf -- that would be Draco, wouldn't it? -- kept trying to play with him, but he didn't feel like tugging on sticks. Draco never seemed to stop; he had bounced and yipped over a scent, and he had come back from a foray with a broken rabbit, which he had dropped between them. Ignoring it, he settled his head on his paws. _

_A heavy weight came slamming into him from the side. It took him a moment to realize that Draco was attacking him. He didn't know what to do about it. Teeth closed on his ruff and claws raked him painfully, but when he didn't fight back, nothing more happened. Draco's wolf backed away, sat down, and whined. _

 

Changing back hit Harry like a bludger. All the energy and aggression of the wolf hit him when it should have been fading, and his side burned in long lines from Draco's claws. Already snarling, he turned on his lover, but Draco thrust the horseshoe that was their Portkey at him, and automatically, he grabbed his side of it.

His stomach, never its steadiest after a change, clenched alarmingly as the pull of the Portkey ebbed and their kitchen appeared around them. They usually stayed near Stag's Run Lodge, but Draco had been uneasy about this change and had insisted on an island. Draco had also attacked him, Harry recalled, straightening. Before he could turn, the banked fire in the grate flared green, and someone burst through.

"Oh, good!" she said. "Ron was worried. As much as I hate to admit it, he sometimes knows--"

She was radiating heat, and agitation, and _prey_. Harry closed on her as a hunter, even while some tiny part of his mind was cataloguing her as Hermione and as someone he loved. His hand, about to seize her shoulder and pull, jerked back. It itched to move forward again.

"Get out," he said, gasping for breath at the end of it. "OUT!"

"Harry?"

She stepped back, but not far enough. He could still see her, scent her. "Such fine skin," he choked out. "Bite--"

For a second time that night, Draco attacked him, leaping on him and pulling him back. They fell painfully to the stone floor, and Harry twisted, snarling.

"Run!" Draco screamed, and there was a hasty fumble at his back and a cry of "Little Alexandria!" and Hermione was gone in a flare of light at his back. Draco immediately went limp, and Harry changed from biting at his shoulder to licking his neck. A few seconds later, he was rubbing against him hard, his entire body in thrall to the desperate need in his cock. Draco tried to undress, but Harry had no patience to accommodate fingers doing anything other than grasping him, and he pressed them out of the way, grinding against Draco until he came in his robes.

He slept.

 

"Are you here?"

It was a question that took some thought. When Harry woke, it was usually in their bed, or occasionally on the sofa, or in the forest. Now, he was on the carpet in the sitting room, and he was sure he had not fallen asleep there. He thought back to the moon. It had all been strange, and then they had taken a Portkey back from the island retreat that Draco had insisted upon, and then Hermione--

"Yes," he said, feeling sick. "I'm here."

"Good," Draco answered fiercely, "because that was terrifying. And I was too weak for magic, and this was the softest spot I could drag you to. Bed?"

 

By the light, it was afternoon. He was in the bedroom, a large, airy room in the new portion of the Lodge, in his bed, and Draco lay beside him. Harry shifted, and Draco, usually a heavy sleeper, woke immediately.

"Harry?"

The query was tense, almost panicked. "I'm here," Harry answered, and the body at his side relaxed.

"Good."

Harry ran his tongue around his mouth. It felt dry and swollen. "Hermione is all right, isn't she?"

"Yes. She escaped." Draco shifted, settling an arm over Harry's chest. "And terrifying as that was, having you lying around like a doormat all night was no better. You let me beat you in a fight, you know. And you wouldn't mount me."

"Yeah, I remember." Harry turned to wrap a leg around Draco. "I couldn't process anything. It was all ... why is he bothering me? And you were all over the place."

"If I seemed more energetic than usual," Draco countered, "it was only by contrast."

"Ah." Harry took a long and shaky breath. "Frankly, I don't find that nearly as frightening as having nearly attacked one of my best friends." All the fears of his fourth year, long conquered, came back to him. He could have killed her -- a dear friend, Ron's wife, his goddaughter's mother.

"Yeah? Do you realize how doomed we would have been if a Welsh Green came after us, and only one of us was resisting?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. It was all he could manage. "And both of us? Do you think we could fight off a dragon?"

"A small dragon wouldn't attack two healthy looking wolves." Draco huffed. "I thought you were _dying!_"

The thought reminded Harry of the ribbon tied around the handle of his flask. "Do you think Snape tried to poison me?"

"I don't know!"

Draco's distress was obvious. He was often disdainful of Snape, but he trusted the man to care for him, and now that it came to it, Harry realized that he, also, rested some of his trust in Snape's potions on Snape wanting Draco safe and happy.

"We'd better figure it out."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then his face smoothed into composure. "I think--"

Before he could say what he thought, the bell on the mantel began to ring. They looked at each other.

"Probably Snape."

With a nod, Draco stood and reached for his dressing gown. "Let me answer it."

Harry got to his feet. "Go ahead."

 

At another time, he might have been amused by Draco's play-acting. He sounded on the verge of hysteria when he first spoke. "Did you know this would happen?" he demanded, his voice rising.

"What? What went wrong?" Snape sounded startled, worried -- of course, Harry reminded himself, he had played that game with a far more powerful opponent than Draco. "Where is Potter?"

"Where do you think?" Draco spat back. "It was _your _potion!"

"Draco," Severus ordered, trying to invoke long-faded authority, "what happened?"

"What did you intend?"

"I intended for it to _work! _I adjusted the formula to compensate for his domineering attitude, but nothing about that should have harmed anything the weight of a wolf!

"His ... what?"

"Do you think I don't see how he bullies everyone who is beholden to him? Even you don't dare disobey him."

"You IDIOT!"

"Do you deny it?"

"I ..." Surprise had made Draco forget his act. Harry heard the soft thump and scrape of him sitting in a chair. "It's not _bullying_."

"Is it not?" Snape was still angry. "Potter sweeps in and commands things -- sending the Wizengamot to change centuries-old edicts, and you to pour the tea."

Draco let out an indignant huff that Harry could hear from his place by the door. "Yes, Harry does take charge," he said, "but what _you_, blinded by your dislike, may have missed is that people _let him do so._ As it happens, some welcome it."

"Because he's the Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort," Snape sneered.

"No," Draco said fiercely. "Because he's _good_ at it. Which is _also _why he was the Boy-Who-whatever, _not _the other way around. He may not seem insightful, but he makes things _happen_, and even when his hunches are wrong, he gets somewhere."

Embarrassed at the turn the conversation was taking, Harry adjusted the hang of his dressing gown and stepped through the door. "Snape," he said tersely. He noticed that Snape, who usually tensed at his displeasure, instead relaxed.

"So you're fine," he accused.

"Now," Harry snarled back. "I nearly killed Hermione."

"That potion should have suppressed aggression, not--!"

"Oh it did," Draco cut in. "And everything else. I spent most of the night afraid he was _dying._"

"But after the change," Harry said, "it all rushed back in. Everything I should have felt all night compressed into dangerously few minutes."

"Oh." Snape settled back. "I see. Perhaps I miscalculated the effects of the temporal compon--"

"I don't think you see at all," Draco said, his head haughtily high.

"If you have finished with your _games_, perhaps some details--"

"Later, Snape," Harry said.

"What?"

"Later. I will not speak to you now."

"But the sooner--"

"I need to confer with my lover." Harry folded his arms over his chest. "And possibly the Minister."

Snape turned pale.

"We'll call you. Stay put."

"I assure you, I intended only--"

With a hard sweep of his arm, Harry closed the Floo, and Snape's head vanished. For a moment, he and Draco stared at the shifting embers in silence, and then Harry crossed to his chair and sat heavily. He stared at the wide grain of the tabletop in silence.

"I think he needs to live with us."

Draco's statement was quiet, but definite. Harry looked at him, confused.

"You still want him as a packmate? As a lover? After that?"

"I'm not sure," Draco confessed, "but it has become _imperative _that he understand -- both you and our relationship. And in the end, he may be easier to influence as a new wolf than as a man set in bad ways."

"But ... he'd never agree to stay here. We terrify him!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry, he doesn't need to agree! _You _are in charge of his parole, remember? Call Shacklebolt, tell him that you are concerned about Snape's recent behavior, and that you require the man to stay under your direct supervision for a month." Sighing, he leaned into his palm. "Bully, my arse! You're inept at using advantages that are fully your right!"

"Yes, well -- we're not all Slytherins, you know. I did give him leave to experiment."

"On the Wolfsbane potion, meaning within the scope of its use. Attempting to alter your personality is not part of that."

It was good to hear Draco make sense of how angry he felt. Relaxing, Harry glanced at the empty table and sighed. "No breakfast."

"I think you frightened it off."

"Oh, very funny."

"Well, frightened off the person carrying it, anyway." Draco stood. "Stay there. I think I can manage to pour milk on muesli."

"Just remember to put it in a bowl first."

"Hush. That was tea. And it was only once."

They had bowls of muesli -- from which Draco had picked out all the raisins and dates -- and some leftover ham, and two cups of tea each, and then Harry spoke briefly to Minister Shacklebolt, who -- as they had expected -- affirmed that Harry had absolute authority over Snape. Once that was over, Harry stiffened his resolve and called Little Alexandria.

 

"Just a moment!" Ron called, from out of sight of the grate in the parlor. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have stepped through, but he didn't want to appear threatening. "Who's--" He stopped in the doorway, little Amanda held upright against his chest. "Harry?"

"Hi," Harry answered. "Look, I wanted to apologize to Hermione. Snape messed around with the formula again, and it had some after-effects."

"Harry!" Hermione darted past Ron and into the room. "I'd thought that must be it! You need to let him stop experimenting on you."

Embarrassed, Harry pushed a hand back through his hair. "Well, you know half his ideas are, well, good. Draco just had two of his best moon recoveries ever."

Ron's eyebrows scrunched down. "And you had a worse one? Mate, doesn't that strike you as a bit suspicious?"

"Oh, it struck both of us as suspicious, believe me. Snape said he was trying to compensate for my greater aggression--"

Ron snorted. "Just because he was a sneak about it doesn't make Malfoy less aggressive."

"Compensate?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Well, and something about the way he made it end went wrong. Believe me, I was utterly passive all night. Draco was terrified."

For a moment, Hermione looked like she might launch into theories, but then she took a quick, settling breath. "Harry, look -- David Charmer can make a perfectly adequate Wolfsbane potion, and I'm only planning to nurse for twelve months, so by next winter--"

"I'll keep it in mind," Harry said. "But for next month--"

"At least insist that it be standard."

"Actually, I think I'll insist on last month's formulation, but--"

"And if the bastard _murders _you?" Ron objected. At his roar, the baby began to fuss, and he jiggled her absently.

"Ron's right, Harry. At least a standard formula can be tested, so--"

"I'm going to make Snape spend the month with me. Draco will supervise any brewing he does."

"That won't be pleasant."

"Pleasant isn't the point."

Hermione tsked and shook her head. "Will you come through, Harry?"

Ron stepped back a pace, arms protectively around his daughter. Harry met his eyes and smiled.

"Nah," he said. "I think I'm okay, but I wouldn't want to be near Mandy yet." He yawned. "Too tired, anyway. Dinner on Friday?"

"Of course."

 

"How DARE you!"

Snape was not taking Harry's declaration as well as Ron and Hermione had. Draco sat in silent amusement, a cup of tea balanced on his knee, and watched.

"It is well within my authority," Harry responded coldly. They had kept Snape waiting for two days, while Harry recovered from the moon and regained the energy needed for this confrontation.

Snape's unusually high color drained away as fear replaced fury. "I won't. You fool! I can't!"

Harry stared, waiting.

"Even if you weren't--" Snape shuddered. "My work! What would I _live _on? And I am REQUIRED to make you Wolfsbane, due to those _spineless _DOLTS on the Wizengamot, and how could I POSSIBLY--"

"I believe you will find my brewing facilities adequate," Draco volunteered in a bored tone. "Not to your standards, of course -- nothing ever is -- but adequate to the purpose."

"I--" Snape tried.

"Kingsley offered to send an Auror escort," Harry declared. "They should be arriving soon if they haven't already, but I've said that you should have three hours to pack, and may make multiple trips to move your belongings."

Snape lowered his head. "How kind," he said, and if his voice dripped with sarcasm, he at least made no more denials.

 

The front bedroom in Stag's Run Lodge had always been their guest room, so there was little to do to prepare it for Snape. Draco added a few books to the shelf above the bed, cast a freshening charm on the unused bedclothes, and declared it ready. He ignored Harry's suggestion that they darken the window glass and turn the curtains and duvet black.

"I'm just thinking of his comfort," Harry said brightly.

Draco snorted. "Of course you are." He leaned back against the bed. "Which brings up another matter -- how do we treat him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you do have authority over him, and this is a consequence of his actions. You could present it -- and approach it -- as punishment."

Harry cocked his head, trying to grasp what Draco wasn't saying. It was an unfortunate necessity when dealing with Slytherins. "And how do you think I should approach it?"

"As education," Draco said promptly. "He does need to be here, but it doesn't need to be unpleasant -- or no more unpleasant than his own prejudices make it."

"I see. I can try, certainly." Harry frowned. "As long as he doesn't start thinking he can get away with things."

"Hm." Draco wriggled a little, shifting back on the bed. "You know what I think we should do?"

"Shag on that bed you just cleaned?"

Tilting his head, Draco gave him a coy smile. "Perhaps," he said. "At least have sex where he can't help but see. And you should refuse to touch him."

"I hardly think he'll mind me not touching him."

"Oh, he will ... if you make it a snub. Move so you couldn't possibly brush against him."

"And what does that accomplish?"

Draco laughed. "He never gets the chance to do the same to you."

"Ah."

"And your touch will become something of mine."

Harry scrunched his face up for a second, and then shook his head. "I'm not sure I follow that, but all right. You understand him better than I ever will."

 

Consequently, while Harry declared that Severus had to eat dinner with them, and that not being hungry was not a sufficient reason to not attend, he also went out of his way to ensure that dinner was worth eating. He was not a showy cook, but he could manage a number of stews and roasts that filled the house with savory aromas. While Snape painstakingly moving his brewing equipment, Harry went down to town and obtained a joint, returned, and began to prepare it. Companionably, Draco joined him in the kitchen and began work on some fussy arrangement of sliced potatoes and cheese sauce, periodically consulting the moving illustrations in _Charming Dinners_.

When everything was ready, Draco went to fetch Snape, who returned with Draco as far as the doorway, but then stood there, hovering awkwardly at the border of the kitchen.

"Come in, Snape," Harry said. "It's roast beef. You can't eat it standing up from ten feet away."

"I see no reason why I must attend your dinners."

"So you have said. And I say you will."

"Severus, really," Draco chided, the name dropping as naturally from his lips as if he were his father. "Do _pretend _to have some manners."

"What use are manners with _beasts_?" Snape snarled back, and for a moment, Harry was able to glimpse Draco in fury -- beautiful, blood-flushed, turning so quickly that his hair floated out -- and then, in an instant, he was once again the Malfoy, self-possessed and light of tongue.

"What a disgrace you are to Slytherin," he commented. "You sat at the Dark Lord's table, through entertainments of torture and death, and you behaved. Nothing so outré will happen here. Do you require murder to feign civility?"

Flushed, Snape took a step forward, and then, after a second, another. Finally, he sat at the old table, head forward so that his face was nearly hidden, only the hook of his nose and the occasional nervous glint of an eye in motion showing through the hair. Draco poured wine, dark and intense, and red glowed from black in the candlelight as he and Harry shared a silent toast.

"How was your day?" he asked Harry. "Any gossip from town?"

Harry laughed, as if Snape were not brooding like a vulture between them. "Would I notice?"

"Someone must have spoken while you were in the butcher's shop."

"Yeah, but it was just chatter. Someone's moving to London, the new shop assistant at somewhere is dreamy, that sort of thing."

"A new assistant somewhere is 'dreamy,' and you did not bother to note _where_?"

Harry met his eyes. "Why would I?" he asked simply, and reached across the table. Snape made a strangled sound as their hands clasped in front of him.

"Well," Draco demurred, "you know I like to look." Still, his fingers turned to lace with Harry's. "Usually to mock the commenter's taste, of course."

"Of course." Harry's mouth twitched, and he let go of Draco to cut a slice of his beef. "Where would the world be without you mocking it?"

"I don't know, I'm sure," Draco answered placidly. "And you Severus? Did your move go smoothly?"

"Considering that I was forced from my home into a place I have _no desire to be_, yes. I can make no complaint as to the logistics." Snape lifted his head. "One of the Aurors helped with carrying my books."

"Good, good," Draco answered, nodding. "The Ministry could use more public servants who are genuinely helpful. Did you get his name?"

"_Her _name was Camellia Crunch."

Harry coughed slightly on his wine and Draco shuddered. "How unfortunate. However, Harry will commend her to Shacklebolt, won't you Harry?"

"I suppose," Harry said. "Though it was rather unprofessional of her, wasn't it? I mean, what if she'd had to go for her wand?"

Snape drew in breath. "Either she did not consider me a _flight risk_," he spat, "or she thought the two other Aurors were adequate to ensure my cooperation."

"Kingsley sent three?" Harry said, surprised. "Well, all right, then."

"How many did you ask for?"

"I told you, he _volunteered_ them."

For a minute, there was silence.

"The potatoes are good, Draco," Harry said, more quietly.

"Thank you. The roast is as well." Draco glanced over at Snape. "You should try it, Severus."

"Oh? Did you kill it yourself?"

Harry laughed. "Have you ever met a cow, Snape? We're not _that _much bigger than natural wolves."

"Wolves kill herd animals," Snape argued. "And you're far more vicious."

Harry clenched his jaw. Under the table, Draco stroked his leg with one foot, and when he had Harry's attention, looked appealingly at him.

"Werewolves are more vicious towards humans," Harry said stiffly, "assuming they are not on the Wolfsbane potion, which you know we are. Cattle are much larger and heavier than people, and they have hooves. I'd need another two or three more wolves before I attempted it, _if _I wanted to, which I don't."

"The butcher is far less likely to leave you requiring a healer," Draco agreed.

"You hunt deer," Snape objected.

"What?" Harry stared at him. Draco put a hand over his eyes. Snape flinched.

"Or so I would imagine," he amended.

"You would? Why?"

"_Stag's Run _Lodge?"

"It's my Patronus!" Harry pushed back from the table.

"Essentially," Draco clarified, "he named the house 'Joy-Protection.'" He shrugged. "We _do _hunt fallow deer, occasionally, but Harry won't touch the red deer."

"Which are still," Harry persisted, moving the subject back to safer quarters, "a quarter the weight of a cow, I'd estimate."

Draco shrugged. "It's not as if I would know."

"Oh, come on! You've been rambling with me. We go through at least two cow pastures on a regular basis. You--" Harry managed to stop himself before saying how terrified Draco had been the first time one of the creatures had approached them.

"And I was entirely occupied with watching where I put my feet," Draco said curtly.

"Yeah, well. Cows." Harry ate a slice of carrot that had been caramelized in the juices from the roast. "Rabbits, now -- they're fun to chase. I think birds are my favorite, though."

"Of course they are. We are both Seekers, after all."

"Convenient, that."

Snape shoved his plate away. "Why am I here? If you are planning to punish me, then DO it. I do not need to sit here and listen to your hunting preferences."

Harry glared. Draco patted his lips with a napkin and turned slightly in his seat. "You are not here for punishment."

"What ELSE would you call this?"

"Education," Harry said firmly. "If you are going to attempt to change my personality, you should at least learn what it is."

"I have had _years_ to learn your personality! I know you are an arrogant, bullying, reckless fool, who returned to school as a murderous creature, knowing the risks you posed your friends--"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"Of course you did! You merely thought _you _were more important than the safety of other students--"

"Damn it, Snape, I didn't WANT to come back. I told Professor Dumbledore I _wouldn't _come back. I spent the evening of my fourteenth birthday stuck in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom, with him telling me about the prophecy, and that it was vitally important to the Wizarding world that I return, despite the risk, and when I finally gave in, I insisted that Ron and Hermione be given Portkeys to the infirmary, in case something happened."

Snape hesitated. He hadn't known, perhaps. He recovered, pursing his lips before speaking. "You were arrogant enough to believe him."

"I was FOURTEEN. God, Snape." Harry pushed his hair back. "I was _terrified_. I made Hermione carry a silver dagger. Then a year later, I totally mucked things up with Cho by buying her one as a present, and not being able to tell her _why_." Exhaling, he tried to lower his shoulders and speak more lightly. "Still, it wasn't all bad, was it? Who knows how long we would have had a Death Eater teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts if I hadn't smelled the real Moody in his trunk."

Draco snorted. "Was that how he was caught? You never told me, Harry."

"Yeah." Harry reddened. "Pity it didn't get me out of the tournament."

"Oh, you did well on the First Task, anyway. And not badly on the Third, for a fourth year."

"May I be excused?" Snape asked, edging his chair back. "I am finding this nauseating."

"Suck it up, Snape. I find a lot of things nauseating."

"Harry." Draco's voice was mild, but chiding. "If he is to live with us, perhaps you might call him Severus?"

"I don't _want _him to call me Severus!"

Harry snorted. "Severus it is."

Hands on the table, Severus started to rise. "I won't stay here to--"

"Sit!" Harry's wand was out. Severus froze. Angrily, Harry snapped it forward. "_Abstergere__!_"

Severus jerked back, knocking over his wine. He and Harry both froze. Sighing, Draco charmed the wine into a liquid ball that floated over to the sink and splashed down into it.

"After dinner," Harry said through clenched teeth, "you will bathe. Severus." He expected a pleading look from Draco, but his lover looked more relieved. Harry supposed that made sense. Draco's nose was as sensitive as his own, after all. "And you will bathe _before _dinner next time."

"You cannot expect--"

Draco raised his head. "Every other day should suffice."

The rest of the meal was eaten largely in silence.

 

\-- Chapter 3 --

 

The next week continued nearly as awkwardly. Snape brewed most days -- for as much of the day as he could, Harry thought, emerging only when it was time for dinner or his bath. Harry didn't think he used anything but water, but if his hair was still greasy, at least he didn't smell. After two incidences of ruined potions, Harry and Draco began to plan for when dinner would be served, something they had previously done only when one or both of them had evening plans. With four hours' notice, Snape could time things effectively.

Harry looked up from his papers as Draco walked by, heading for the cellar stairs, and watched as Draco called down a dinner warning. Draco turned and caught his look.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Nothing. I just like watching you move. Come here."

The last words were unnecessary. Draco was already approaching him. Harry set the reports aside and left his arms open, which was all the invitation Draco needed to straddle his lap.

"God, you're hot," Harry murmured, as the first set of kisses ended. "I've missed having the house to ourselves."

"Well, I did say we should do it in front of him."

"Was that still the plan? I've lost track."

"It's still my plan."

"It could make things worse."

"Do you care?"

At first that made sense. Of course he didn't care. Harry lost himself in the contest of their mouths, Draco's taste and Draco's ferocious energy, and stayed submerged in it until he thought he heard the click of a boot on the stairs.

"What?" Draco demanded breathlessly.

"Yeah," he said. "I do." His ears had apparently deceived him; Snape did not emerge. "Care, I mean. I want to tame him."

"_Tame _him?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Well, not really. But you know when Luna got that dog? The one that had been abused? It's like that. It would be ten times sweeter to have him come to my hand."

"Ah. That sort of tame. I'd like to see him hunt, myself; all that strangled energy released."

"Mm." Harry stroked his hands along the taut muscles of Draco's arse. "There might be other ways to release it," he whispered.

"Oh, yes."

Draco leaned his head back in that way that drove Harry insane, and Harry yanked him close and rose up against him. Draco was squirming in the limited motion that Harry would allow him when the cellar door opened.

For a moment, all of them froze. Then, with a sighing moan, Draco began to rock in Harry's loosened hold. His breath resuming, Harry rubbed his face against Draco's soft shirt.

"Harry. I want you. I can't--"

Quick footsteps crossed the room, accelerating in the hall. The door to the bathroom slammed. They separated -- guiltily, Harry thought, but guilt was apparently the furthest thing from Draco's mind.

"Well. That touched a nerve."

"Apparently."

Draco's sharp face lit with mischief as he looked down. "I," he said, "have a plan."

"Oh? That's usually good for some fun -- or calls for some damage control."

"Are you up for being fucked?"

"Fucked?" Harry had to ask. Draco liked being buggered so much that he was seldom interested in switching roles. Half the times they did were because Harry had asked. "You know I love you inside me, baby."

"All right." Draco sat back on his heels and Harry's knees. "Well, you know I did have a tendency to, um, listen at doors...."

"Did?" Harry asked pointedly.

"Well, it's hardly interesting with you. You'll tell me anything, after all. But at the Manor, the last summer...."

"Yes?"

"From some things my father said, as well as what was done to me, I gather there was a certain amount of sex-as-dominance among the Dark Lord's followers."

"And?"

"I believe it might throw him off balance to see me mounting my alpha."

Harry laughed. "Your alpha. I like that. So off-balance is good."

"Of course! He won't learn anything until he realizes that what he knows is wrong."

"Well, I'm game. Any plan for how to get him to see?"

"Mm. Well, dinner is a stew. It can sit. We'll start in the hallway, just before he should be leaving the bath, and one of us can charm the door not to reclose."

"All right." Harry nudged Draco, who slid back off his lap. "But let's go to my room and warm up, okay? I can't take it as fast as you do."

"Lack of practice."

"And whose fault is that?"

"You _do _have dildos, you know."

"Prat."

 

They were trying to be quiet, so as not to give warning. Harry was bent over, both hands clutching a wall sconce above, forehead leaned into his elbows, and both slick with sweat. Draco, behind him, was holding his cock tight to get the head in. At the clack of the door and Snape's gasp, Harry twisted his head to look. The man was twisted away, yanking furiously at the persistently open door.

"Stay," Harry said drunkenly, half-lost in the otherworldly feel of Draco's cock stretching him as it pushed in. "Y'should watch."

"I have _no _desire to--"

"Hush."

Harry thought Draco might have enforced that with a hex, because Snape didn't speak after that. He didn't even try to turn away, although he did shift uneasily, visibly more and more agitated, as Draco began to thrust. Harry tried to watch, to absorb the burning color on Snape's face and the distension of his dressing gown as his own cock began to rise, but the sensation of Draco moving inside him was too much. His eyes closed as Draco picked up his pace, his hands digging into Harry's hips rather than curling around his cock, where they belonged. He wanted to ask for more attention, to beg for it, but he couldn't bring himself to speak, only to cry out and rock back harder.

Draco, usually so vocal, didn't speak either, just grunted and panted with effort, his grasp tightening as if he were holding Harry upright, which he might have been, by now. Even without words, Harry could still detect the rise in his voice as he neared orgasm. Without that, he would have been taken by surprise as Draco first froze and then slowly drooped, his torso sagging heavily onto Harry's back. Harry gave him only a few seconds before he twisted away and turned to brace his back where his forearms had been a moment before. Snape, who had taken a step forward, twitched back. Harry had forgotten him.

"Mm?" Draco looked dizzy. Harry stroked lovingly along his cheek.

"Suck me, baby, please?"

"Oh." Draco blinked at him for a moment, and then stepped close. "Yeah."

Without preliminaries, he dropped to his knees and rubbed his face against Harry's bare cock, streaking his cheek with glistening liquid.

"I'm such a spoiled brat. You never forget me like that."

"I like the way you get lost," Harry murmured, his fingers trailing through bright hair. "I like watching you stripped down, all your plots dissolving, until you just go by feel, and don't even notice...." He cried out as Draco's mouth closed on him, hot and eager and with none of his usual teasing. Draco wasn't lost in this, though. He reached back, pushing fingers into Harry's still loose hole and Harry's head fell back, stopping at the wall with a soft clunk. He was vaguely aware of Snape still there, trapped between them and the bathroom, but he didn't really care, not when he was so close to exploding into Draco's wet mouth, squirming between that and the tiny pushes of his spread fingers, stretching him just a little more, taking him just a little deeper.

Energy pooled in his bollocks, drew in, and shot out, as air shot out of his lungs, a shout he could no more have held in then he could have not come. He sucked a breath in and let it out, Draco sliding a hand up his stomach to keep him upright through the sudden drain.

"God." Harry forced his eyes to open. "I can't believe how good you are. Still."

Apparently recovered, Draco smirked. Snape coughed.

"I _am _still here, you know."

Harry looked over. Snape's face was dark with blood, and his scowl especially deep. It might have been more effective if not for the lifted drape of his dressing gown.

"Mm." He let his gaze linger there significantly. "You don't look like it was entirely unpleasant."

"A physical reaction is inevitable," Snape protested. "Is that not the point of such displays?"

"Inevitable?" Draco murmured, but pushed the matter no further. Harry laughed.

"Did you learn anything?"

"That you're both perverts!"

Draco snorted and Harry grinned. "What, for _that?_ I thought 'pervert' was for the whip rack next to my wardrobe."

Severus made an inarticulate noise, and Draco rose to his feet, pausing for a stretch at the top of it. "Harry finds the most interesting things in equestrian shops. I believe some of the shop assistants believe he actually has a _horse._"

Harry sniggered. "I may have dropped something about a feisty white barb."

"That is enough!" Snape snarled. "Let me _go_!"

Harry stiffened. Draco sighed.

"No," Harry said deliberately. "I think I won't."

"I am dripping, I am cold, and I want to _dress_."

"Oh that's fine," Harry agreed. "We'll come with you."

"I assure you, I can dress unsupervised."

"Obviously. But you've been avoiding us, and that won't do. You're going to spend the next three days in the presence of both of us -- maybe one for short stretches if needed -- at all times."

Severus stared. "You cannot be serious!"

"Oh, I think I am."

"Are you going to stand behind me while I brew?"

"No. You're going to take three days off from brewing."

"That is my living, Potter!"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't let you starve."

"I demand--"

"Three days is not that long, Severus, and you are perilously close to defying me."

"You capricious--! I will complain."

"Right. To whom?"

When several seconds had passed and Severus hadn't come up with an answer, Harry turned briskly.

"All right, then. Your room, then dinner."

"Will one of you follow me into the loo?" Severus demanded caustically.

"Hm. What do you think, Draco?"

"As I recall, this wasn't to be punishment."

The words were thoughtful, but Harry knew them as a correction. He felt himself flush. "Oh, all right. Privacy for that, but you can't hide in there."

Draco's subtle criticism twisted in Harry's thoughts as they walked to the guest room. He easily fell into humiliating Snape. It was a natural vengeance for his years at school, but if he gave in to that too much, he would never get anywhere. A pack member that didn't trust him would be miserable; he needed to reach some sort of trust. He wouldn't change his decision -- though it had been, as accused, capricious. However, he could soften the implementation. He talked to Draco as Severus changed into clothes, allowing him to do so in the narrow cover of the wardrobe and pointedly not looking, even when quick movements tried to attract his eye.

 

Severus was distressed when he discovered that Harry intended him to sleep in their room, but calmed to mere indignation when Harry transfigured a second bed for him.

"I understand the point, I expect," he said acidly. "An audience for your sexual activities."

"Perhaps that's it," Draco said lightly. "Harry is discovering exhibitionism."

Harry shrugged, uneasy at the implication that Draco had not agreed with his decree. "I just think, you know, if the point is to have him see what we're like with each other, it doesn't help if he avoids us all the time."

"And do you think I will believe what you choose to show me?" Severus demanded.

"Do you think I could fake anything for three days straight?"

"You hid being a werewolf for three years."

Harry jerked his head to the side, shaking his fringe out of the way. "Not the same. That was just moments of deception, though often. And I had two friends and three professors helping me."

Snape had been one of those professors. Briefly, there was silence.

"Did you enjoy having him watch?" Draco asked. He sounded genuinely curious -- or at least as curious as Draco Malfoy could admit to being.

Harry laughed slightly, and looked down at the duvet. "Honestly? I forgot he was there."

"Oh." As their eyes met, Draco looked as pleasantly lost as he had in the hallway. Contrary to Severus's expectations, they did no more than kiss and cuddle, that night, but that activity was both lengthy and sincere.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next day, Harry discovered that staying together to the extent he had decreed was so far out of their usual behavior that he didn't know what to do. Usually, he realized, he and Draco would spend much of the day apart: Draco would read a novel, and he would read committee reports; Draco would read committee reports and he would fly; he would fly, and Draco would visit friends. To stay together felt odd, although they both, of course, could still read.

Accordingly, they spent much of the first day in the sitting room, reading. Harry was relieved when it was time for him to make dinner. After dinner, he and Draco had sex -- mutual oral pleasure, for the most part. He deliberately did not look to see if Severus was watching or ignoring them.

The next morning started out much the same way, except that they stayed in the bedroom. Harry took over the bed with a spread of vampire reports that had been too tedious to correlate before, and Draco lounged across the armchair, reading a weekly. Severus sat cross-legged on his bed and watched with pointed intensity. It was distracting. Eventually, Draco crossed the narrow strip of floor and settled against Harry's side. Severus still watched.

Slowly, Harry grew more aware of Draco's presence. He thought of what Severus had said. Was he waiting for them to have sex? Hoping for it? Dreading it? He thought of his own glib reply to Severus's accusation of perversion, and he ran his lips across Draco's fair hair and over his ear.

"Shall I flog you?"

Draco went utterly still. Harry kissed his ear. "I want to do something," he elaborated.

Idly, Draco turned and rolled into him.

"Please," he said.

"Mm." Harry stood, and stretched. "Draco," he said out loud, and Draco looked up eagerly.

"Let's play," Harry said, and Draco rolled off the bed and onto his knees. Harry couldn't keep from laughing slightly at how artificial it was, but Severus came to his feet at the first burst of motion. After a few quick steps, he seemed to realize that they weren't going anywhere, and backed up towards the wall. Still smiling, Harry Summoned the whip rack and set it down to one side. It was a short stand, basically rectangular, with a line of slots in a board set a few inches above a low platform, and another corresponding set in a board at the top. Only two sets were used as intended, with the handle of a crop resting on the platform, and the shaft laid from one slot to its pair above. A thin switch was stored similarly, but beyond that, he had used the upper slots in pairs, looping thong or cord handles from one to the next. In that way, he had suspended four floggers and a leather paddle. Most were black or brown, with little ornamentation. The Imperial Flogger hung among them like Gilderoy Lockhart in a line of monks. Harry stepped back and motioned Draco forward.

"Choose."

Normally Draco would have just said -- "the paddle, then your hand" or "the brown flogger and the louder crop" -- but apparently that wouldn't suffice when on display. Instead, he dropped from his knees to knees and hands, and prowled forward, drawing a faint hiss of breath from their audience. At the rack he paused, as if studying his options, and then reared up and stretched forward. It took him two tries and a visible use of tongue to get the wrist strap of the Imperial Flogger in his teeth, but once he had it, he removed it neatly and then turned to offer it to Harry in a chest-down, bum up position that Harry, at least, recognized as a canine invitation to play.

Harry chuckled as he took it. "Very well. Showy it is."

Severus, apparently tired of standing, threw himself down into Draco's heirloom Louis IV armchair. "How gaudy. Is it the ceremonial cat of Gryffindor?"

It took Harry a moment to place the word 'cat'. _Cat o' nine tails. Although it must have twice that, and it's not that sort of whip. _"Almost," he answered. "It was a present from Hermione. Draco's learned to like it, though." Ignoring Severus's horrified look, he accepted the flogger from Draco and turned it in a showy figure eight, enjoying the way the tails whispered wickedly through the air. "Stand up, love. Robes off and hold the bar."

The bars were his additions to Stag's Run Lodge. There were two of them, both plain brass tubes, mounted a few inches out from one wall and running from end to end of it. One was just at shoulder height for Draco, and the other just above Harry's waist, which was at shoulder height for Draco on his knees. They used them in a number of ways, but this was their favorite. Draco stood back from the bar and leaned forward to grasp it with both hands, displaying his back in front of Harry. A loose undergarment purported to cover him from the waist down, but the fabric and drape were too fine to obscure a single contour of his arse and thighs. Harry licked his lips.

"Perfect," he said.

Unlike the last time, when sex with Draco had driven everything else from his mind, Harry was almost palpably aware of Severus. The man was like a fire, staying in place at one side, but charging everything with heat. Harry looked across Draco's tilted back at him and saw him sitting upright, staring back. Feeling bold, Harry smiled at him, though he knew Severus would call that insolence. Perhaps it was.

Returning his attention to his lover, Harry turned the flogger in a quick motion of his wrist, landing a set of light strokes, shoulders to arse, laying a base of sensation. For a moment, he stopped, stroking his hand down the warmed skin.

"So lovely."

"Don't tease, Harry. More."

"But you like being teased."

He made the next set of strokes scarcely heavier, letting each fall slowly.

"Harry!"

"I'm sorry." Harry glanced over at Severus, who was watching tight-lipped -- but still watching. "Am I boring you, love?"

"Yes!" Draco snapped.

"Poor babe." Harry tried to keep his voice light as he drew his arm back. The tails hissed a moment's warning before snapping down hard on Draco's arse.

Draco yelped. "Yes," he said roughly. "Do it."

Harry backed off a fraction, but not enough to tease. He set up a rhythm of even blows, letting Draco adapt to it, watching for the muscles in front of him to relax in acceptance. There he paused for a moment, stroking Draco's hot skin and kissing the back of his neck. He remembered Snape and snuck a glance in that direction, finding the man wide eyed and shifting slightly in his seat. He kissed Draco again. "Harder?"

"Yes. I want marks."

"All right."

Harry folded back half the thick tails and held them against the handle. He wasn't sure why that made the impact sharper, but it did. He powered the next blow from his shoulder, and lines of red bloomed across Draco's back.

Severus hissed.

"Yeah," Draco said. He screamed at the next one, the sound yanking Severus out of his seat.

"Good," Draco panted, to reassure Severus, Harry suspected. "May I shout?"

"I didn't tell you not to."

Harry landed several blows in quick succession, and then stopped to shove Draco's undergarment down. His arse was as marked as his back, and his cock standing out hard from his body. Harry took a moment to stroke it and smear the wetness at the tip. "Mm," he said appreciatively. "Hold that thought."

He continued, alternating the flogger and touch, until Draco was clinging to the bar to stay upright. Deliberately, Harry set the flogger down and kissed behind his ear.

"Harry," Draco sobbed, "I-- I--"

"Shh." Harry lowered him down to the sheepskin by the bed, and settled him on his side, intentionally displaying his front to Severus. "It's all right." He was already fondling Draco, covering his erection with long strokes. "Is this what you need?"

"Yes. Yes, Harry...."

"Whatever you want, baby." He loved the feel of Draco's cock -- the narrow, hard shaft, the soft skin, the slide of tight foreskin where his excitement had squeezed out slick drops of lubrication. Harry went from a tight, slow grip to something lighter and faster, and Draco shook in his arms. No scream of pleasure now, just a shudder and gouts of moon-white spunk, cast out in two short cords and a longer line of oval drops, splayed out like the lines from the flogger. With a shuddering sigh, he rolled forward.

"I love you," Harry whispered. He Summoned the matching sheepskin from the other side of the bed and covered Draco with it. He rubbed his arm gently, but rather than lying beside him and cuddling him as he would usually do, he came up into a ready crouch, his eyes boring into Severus, who was beyond pretending not to watch.

"Would you like to take his place?" Harry invited, his voice low with contained lust. "I want more. Come here."

It was perhaps not fair, in that Snape may not have understood that he was allowed to refuse, but Harry doubted that he really _wanted _to refuse, so he pushed back that niggle of guilt as Snape slunk forward, moving to stand beside Draco. Harry saw his lover looking up through a mist of pale lashes, not too melted to be intrigued.

Harry stepped close behind Snape, so that they almost touched. "Hold the bar," he whispered. "Do you wish to be bound?"

"I ..." Snape cleared his throat. "I may choose?"

"For now, yes. I don't know your history, or what binding might mean to you."

Snape hesitated again. "As you wish," he said thickly.

"Very good." With a whispered charm, Harry Summoned a pair of cuffs down to the middle of the bar. He took one and stroked the thick lamb's fleece that lined it against the inside of Snape's wrist. "Soft, isn't it?" he murmured against Snape's ear -- God, why couldn't the man wash adequately? -- but then stepped back. "Remove your robes and shirt."

With shaking hands, Snape unbuttoned the front of his robes, getting only a few inches down before he gave up and pulled them awkwardly over his head. The fabric dragged his shirt up and that caught around his neck, until Harry cast an unfastening charm and they both came flying off, pulling his trousers high. Snape's face burned with embarrassment.

"Good," Harry soothed and fastened the first cuff, pulling the strap through the buckle until the fleece was snug against Snape's wrist. Snape let out a desperate little sound and took a quick breath.

"That's it," said Harry. "Breathe. For as long as you are in my bindings, you are under my protection. You know I'm good for that."

Snape nodded wordlessly while Harry did the second cuff. Harry considered whether to bind his ankles as well. Not with Snape standing, he decided; it would take from, rather than add to, his security here. He started even more lightly than he had for Draco, with a whirling brush of just the tips of the tails. Severus made a choking noise.

"Yes?" Harry asked, pausing to lay a hand on his back.

"That was ... soft."

"Yeah, it is, used like that." Harry trailed the scarlet leather strips of the flogger in a wavy path down Severus's back. It was scarred, he saw, in two jagged paths, and one straight line. "And like this. Are you okay?"

"No. I'm bound in front of a werewolf with a whip."

His voice shook. Harry stroked down his back again. "But you know you're safe, right?"

"Not really."

"This isn't required. Just say stop, and I will."

Snape's head moved in a jerky acknowledgement, and Harry lifted his hand and stepped back. "Now, here's what Draco found too light."

He did the quick line of strikes again, letting the tails spread. After he had covered Severus's back twice, the man's shoulders finally settled down from his ears, and Harry paused to stroke him with the crimson leather again. Draco was openly looking up at them now, although lazily. Harry stroked down the side of Severus's trousers, dragging the fabric taut enough to give Draco a view.

"All right?"

"Yes, damn it!"

"Ready for a little rougher?"

Snape's breath hissed in through his teeth. "Yes."

"Good." Harry began a series of even, steady blows -- nothing that would really sting, but a slow build of force. "Breathe."

"I am --"

"_Breathe._"

Draco pushed himself up on one elbow, and Severus saw him. Harry paused, stopping to brush his hand over the pink lines he was leaving on Severus's back. He continued the touch down his thigh again, and then forward. Severus whined as Harry rubbed over his cock.

"Mm. I think someone doesn't mind me being a pervert. Shall I ask Draco if he's up to sucking that for a moment?"

Severus made a shuddering noise of consent, and Draco laughed shakily.

"I think I can sit up. Here...." He crawled under the bar and helped Harry with unfastening buttons and pushing aside fabric. They uncovered pale skin, black curls, and a blunt, thick cock, whose maroon coloration seemed a better match for the hair than the rest of the exposed skin. Draco ran his tongue over it, and made a slight face. Guessing, Harry reached for his wand and cast a subtle cleaning spell. With a little nod, Draco tried again, stretching his lips over the head, this time.

"I--" Severus soundly sounded panicked. "I should not--"

"Shh." Harry said, settling close behind him. He had to work not to rock against that tight arse. "Isn't he good? Such a wicked tongue on him -- this way, too."

"Uh! Yes, yes, so--" Severus shook. Harry watched, stroking his sides while Draco licked and sucked his erection, until he thought he might be moving too close to orgasm.

"Stop for a moment, Draco," he ordered. "I get another turn now."

Severus seemed utterly befuddled by Draco pulling away. He stood, motionless, until Harry brought the flogger down again, with almost the force of his last blows.

"Shall I go on?"

"Yes--" Severus shook his head. "What do I call you?"

A significant question, Harry thought. Potter was his father, and that had always been a problem between them. "Harry," he said.

"Just --"

"If you were my pack, you might call me 'alpha', but you are not." He brought the flogger down hard again. "I won't have any other title. Not from you."

"Stop!"

Harry pulled a third blow, the change in motion so abrupt that he knew he would feel it in his shoulder in the morning. "Shall I let you go?" he demanded.

"No, I just-- No. Go on."

Nodding, Harry resumed, going fractionally lighter. He had been pushing, after all, letting his own agitation affect him. He kept at it until Severus settled into the faster, harder, pace, and then held there. After what felt like several minutes, he paused to catch his breath.

"Draco?"

Draco came up to his knees again and licked up Severus's cock while Harry snugged up close against his arse. He didn't try to keep himself from rocking this time, although he left his jeans on.

"That's it," he soothed. "You need some time feeling things. It's so easy to give up on that. You're safe here." _Until I bite you_, he couldn't help thinking, savage and excited at the prospect. He rubbed harder. Severus was shaking, straining. Harry reached up and covered his arms, holding the bar next to his hands. "Draco's so hot, taking you down like that. He's regretted not having the experience to jump you, do you know that? When you were moving him from hiding place to hiding place. I bet he was showing you skin every chance he got."

Severus whined, a tense, needy sound that made Harry want to bite him. _Hold off, hold off -- don't want him to panic. _Harry shoved hard against him. "Don't you want to come for me? Don't you want to come down his throat? Gotta watch him milk you with his tongue, like he does--"

Severus wailed and spasmed, going rigid under Harry's body and Draco choked and recovered. Desperate to use his teeth, Harry twisted to bite his own arm. As soon as his teeth closed, his brain and body flooded with white fire, and he hauled Severus in tight.  
"Oh."

"I'm going to let him down, Harry, is that okay?"

"Hm?" Harry felt like he'd passed out. He was still standing, but Severus was shivering, and the wet mess in his jeans was spreading through the rough weave. "God, yeah. I came in my pants. Bath? He should be someplace warm."

"Mm. You two lie down for a moment. I'll draw it."

That made sense. The bath was large and took a while to fill. Draco draped a blanket over them, and Harry curled up to Severus, draping a leg over him and thinking this should feel stranger than it did.

"I ... Should I...."

"S'alright. We overloaded you."

"That was--" Severus took a deep breath. "I should be terrified, I just can't--"

"The point, right? You should stop being terrified."

"But you're monsters." Snape sounded almost plaintive, and Harry was more amused than offended.

"Sort of. Sometimes. But as you said -- well, implied -- who isn't? We're rather nice ones, I think."

"Arrogance."

"Yeah, but I bet you could learn to like it."

Severus was silent, but he wasn't tensing up, yet. Before Harry could decide if he should do something, Draco came to fetch them.

When Harry had bought Stag's Run Lodge, the limited electricity -- the water pump, water heater, and a few lights -- had been powered by a propane generator. After a few days of magic making the lights flicker and strobe alarmingly, Harry had pulled the fuses for everything but the water pump, which was far enough away from the living areas that it tended to work reliably. Eventually, they had run out of propane, and Hermione had encased the tank in explosion containment charms, and Harry had hired someone to do plumbing charms and to update the primitive bathroom.

It was luxurious. The bath was a wide oval that would easily hold three. In a shared glance, Harry and Draco decided that Severus should go between them, while Severus, contrarily, seemed belatedly self-conscious.

"Perhaps I should leave the two of you--"

"Not for another day and a half," Harry said cheerfully. "Besides, the point was to warm you, as well as cleaning me."

Reluctantly, Severus stepped into the bath and started to sit down. At the first touch of the water to the lines on his arse, he gasped and tried to stand again, but Draco was ready for this and pressed on his shoulders, pushing him down with a splash that slopped water onto the floor.

"Wait," he commanded. "I know the feeling, but it only hurts for a few seconds. Sit and adjust."

Severus hissed and settled, and Harry stroked the back of his neck. "There. Move lower; you can lean against me. Draco, would you please wash his hair? It's heavy as a thestral's mane."

Severus made a face. "I do not want to be washed."

"Well, we've already tried pinning you down and licking you," Draco shot back, but Severus was already leaning pliantly into Harry. Draco fingered his hair. "Hm. What we use won't do. Harry, do we still have that clove and sandalwood stuff that Padma left here?"

For answer, Harry grabbed his wand from the shelf by the bath and Summoned Padma's toiletries. "Here."

"I don't--" Severus tried, but Draco was already working shampoo through the thick mess and into his scalp. Lazily, Harry slid a hand up and helped a little with the back of his neck. Severus made a strangled noise and pressed against him.

"It's all right," Harry murmured as Draco rinsed the shampoo out and started a second round of it. "We'll take care of you."

"I don't need--"

"Oh, yes you do. You're an absolute mess. When was the last time you left your flat before coming here? Interacted with anyone but customers?"

"I don't see that that is your concern," Severus answered, but his voice was muffled against Harry's shoulder.

"But it could be." Harry stroked him idly while Draco levitated the suds and grime from the bath water to the sink. "If I was your alpha."

Severus stiffened. "I... I'm not a _werewolf_."

"Ah. True."

Draco distracted Severus by putting something else on his hair. Severus actually twisted to look at him. "Stop that!"

"It's a conditioner, and you need it, because it's the only way I'll get this detangled. Harry, would you help?"

"Of course. I'll take this side."

They worked quietly, at one point kissing each other behind Severus's head while their fingers continued. Severus sat, at first sullenly, and then just quietly. At last Draco declared the effort successful, rinsed the conditioner out and freshened the water again. Harry warmed it once that was done, and they smiled at each other.

Severus shifted away. "What am I doing here?"

"Getting clean?" Harry suggested flippantly.

Draco covered his mouth for a moment. "Improving your brewing," he said seriously.

"I strongly doubt this will do anything for my potions."

"No, he's right," Harry said. "You spend all this time and effort on the Wolfsbane potion, but you refuse to observe anything about the people and the condition that you're trying to treat. Spend the month with us, Severus. Spend this moon -- or a few."

Snape's shoulders drew up and in. "And if you bite me?"

Harry shrugged. "Would your life be any worse as a werewolf?" He met Snape's eyes. "As _my _werewolf?"

Snape stared back, paralyzed, but whether from fear or doubt, Harry could not tell. Draco cleared his throat.

"It seems to me that to worry is to distrust your own skill. _You _will have brewed our potion, after all."

Severus took a deep breath. "I want your promise," he said, turning to Harry. "Your promise that neither of you will bite me."

"Oh, very well." Behind the man's back, Draco sent him a sharp look, but Harry just smiled. Accepting a promise was trust, after all, and he did not need to turn Severus this moon.

_Another month. No, two. By April, he would allow it. By May, he will ask._  
Harry was woken by Severus easing his way out of bed. The man was three steps away when Harry rolled over and smiled at him.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

Snape drew himself up. "As the two of you have had your sport," he said coldly, "I thought that I might be excused."

"No."

"You don't have the courage to change your mind, do you?" Snape sneered. "You said it would be three days, with no more thought than you'd choose breakfast, and it _will _be three days, even if you're so bored that you resort to sharing me with your lover for entertainment. You're going to punish me forever, even though I _helped _you."

"Am I punishing you?" Harry asked mildly. Beside him, Draco was stirring. "I thought I'd stopped, last night."

"So I may leave?" Severus sneered.

"No." Sighing, Harry sat up. This wasn't going to be settled quickly. "That isn't punishment." He studied Severus for a moment. The man was all tension again. Except for the oddly clean hair -- ragged, now that it was untangled -- it might have been two days ago. "Flogging you wasn't either, you know."

"Then what was it?"

"Pleasure, of course," Draco drawled, looking over Harry's ribs at Severus. "You seemed to agree."

Severus hesitated. "A confusion of sensation," he said firmly, "brought on by its excess."

Draco snorted. Harry shrugged. "Let's make this explicit," he said. "You are required to stay with us for another day and night. That requirement does not include participating -- that's your choice, if we offer. Furthermore, I forgive you for being an utter bastard to me when I was a child and had done nothing to deserve it. You've been treated like crap since the war, and I consider us even."

Severus looked furious. "I cannot leave the country!" he snarled. "I cannot carry my wand more than ten feet away from my cauldrons! Every beetle eye that I buy is recorded by the Ministry. You may do anything you wish to me -- including, as I have been gleefully told, _killing me,_ and you are making me go THREE DAYS WITHOUT MY WAND. _This _is the balance of humiliating you in lessons?"

Harry was not intimidated. "I did nothing to deserve how you treated me."

"And I did? I HELPED you!"

"You played both sides. You favored ours, I believe -- you're sane enough -- but there were points where you could have broken away and dealt a decisive blow, and instead you hedged your bets."

"You _needed _someone on the other side," Severus hissed. "A source--"

"That _wasn't _how you helped us," Harry retorted sharply. "You helped us kill Voldemort by brewing Draco Wolfsbane, _not _by being a spy." He let out a breath, and tried to let some of the old anger go with it. "Really, Severus -- that's what you're best at -- potions. And I do think you helped us more than you did Voldemort, though more important people may not be convinced. Now come back under the blankets; you're shivering."

"No," Draco said.

"What?" Harry looked between them. Draco looked determined and haughty, but Severus almost alarmed.

"He's not _pack_, Harry. I didn't mind last night on the spur of the moment, but I won't have him in our bed again."

"Are you jealous?" It might not have been the best thing to blurt out if Harry had been right, but he could tell by Draco's quick twitch of a smile that he hadn't been. It was a ploy, then; a flicker of bait for the pack member Draco wanted.

Before Draco could speak, Severus stepped forward with oily grace. "You should not permit him to speak to you that way, Harry."

Draco laughed scornfully, and Harry pushed his hair back in exasperation. So that was Snape's problem, was it? He wasn't expected to allow Draco to have an opinion?

"Stop it," he said. He glared at Draco's smirk. "_Both _of you." The look turned to Severus and softened ruefully. "I _told _you that you don't understand us, and this is just the sort of thing I mean. Draco has not only the right, but the _charge _to tell me when he feels I am making a mistake, even if it's just over-extending."

"_Especially _if it is over-extending," Draco corrected. "I am Granger's balance in that -- she can't find a home for mangy Puffskeins without wanting Harry to sponsor it. But I _also _intervene when people try to take advantage of him." Scorn twisted his features again. "Did you think to gain his favor for so little, Severus? A few minutes' submission that you enjoyed as much as he did?"

Harry watched Severus closely. There was scarcely a flicker of his eyes before he recovered, but the flicker was there, and his dignity was definitely shredded by standing naked, shivering with cold. Harry would not be surprised if he had hoped for that -- but after all, it was in line with what Draco had proposed. He restrained himself from sending a blanket towards the man. It would be interesting to see if he would ask for one.

"Enough, Draco," he said firmly. "And don't make me say it a third time." He lounged back against his pillow. "Instead of taunting him, tell me what you think I should do."

Draco shrugged. "You are welcome to play with him, if you wish," he said. "I certainly find him no threat. What you will _not _do is intervene with Kingsley on his behalf, offer to support him, or allow him undue intimacy, such as sleeping in our bed. You have enough people to protect. He is not pack, you do not love him, and you are not responsible for his degraded state. You should save your energies for people who matter to you, and whose loyalty you can depend on."

Severus straightened at that, as if he would speak, but did not.

Harry pretended to consider. "That's all true--" Another twitch of motion from Severus, but again, no words. "However, he is also my prisoner, really, so I think I do owe him a measure of comfort in my house, until I allow him to leave."

Draco curled in his fingers in their signal for 'yes', and Harry turned to Severus. "Here," he said, and with a wave of his wand, sent the uppermost blanket sailing over to him. Severus lost no time in wrapping it around himself. "In your own home," Harry questioned, "how do you handle the wand issue? If I put a cauldron in the kitchen, would you be able to use your wand there?"

"If it was one of my cauldrons--"

"And if he attacks you?" Draco interrupted. Harry snorted.

"Honestly! It may be common belief that he's too clever by half, but I've never heard anyone accuse him of ignoring his own best interest. He won't do anything so idiotic, I'm sure."

"Of course not, Harry," Severus answered immediately, with a glare at Draco. "I didn't spend years keeping you alive in order to mindlessly turn on you."

Draco was not put off. "You kept him alive to kill Voldemort for you," he scoffed. "Which is over and done."

"Did I not tell you to SHUT IT?" Harry roared. Draco went flat on the mattress. Harry could tell he was chortling into his pillow, but from Severus's distance he must have looked alarmed. "Severus. You have an hour off. Go and sort exotic toenails or something. At the end of that, meet us in the kitchen. You may bring a cauldron to leave there."

Severus gave a nervous bow. "As you wish," he said, and departed.

After he had left, Harry cast a noise block on the door and lay down beside Draco. "So, Slytherin, how much of that was real?"

"Why don't you guess?"

"I think you don't mind him in our bed at all -- you're holding out to have something to tempt him with."

Draco kissed him on the lips and drew back again. "Essentially correct. And?"

"About why he agreed last night ... I'm not sure. He looked alarmed for a second, but I wasn't sure if it was because you were right, or because he thought I'd believe it."

Draco hesitated. "I think that he doesn't fully understand why he did it. That he hoped for your favor is probably the explanation he would give himself."

"But?"

"He was hard when he came to you. You might not have been able to see, but I could. So he might not admit that he wanted your attentions, but logically, I have to believe that he did."

Harry sighed. "Slytherins are crazy, you know."

"No more than anyone else," Draco said brightly. "We're merely the best at obscuring it."

Harry laughed. "Do you still want to keep him?"

"Would I be trying if I didn't?"

"No, probably not." Harry grinned. "Okay. I'll play along. Not too nice."  
The next day was comparatively dull. Draco was polite, if haughty, towards Severus, and now that he knew where to look, Harry could practically see Severus trying to calculate his standing, and being frustrated by not knowing how to tell.

At the end of the third day, Harry suggested that Severus continue to spend more time in the common rooms. Severus, he suspected, took that as a command, and was often to be found in the kitchen, where one of his smallest pewter cauldrons now sat beside the stove. He was scrupulously polite and not too forward ... until several evenings later when Draco left for a reception. The flare of Floo travel had no sooner faded than he looked up from his tea at Harry.

"Since we are alone...." he began, and faded off there. Harry eyed him speculatively.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering...." His face reddened. "If you might show me your other whips." He put down his cup. "If it would please you, of course."

Harry felt his blood rising at the thought. "I don't actually have a whip," he answered contrarily. He smiled. "Not a proper one, although I have considered it. What I used on you was a flogger."

Severus clasped his hands in his lap. "I am afraid I don't understand the difference."

"A whip has one -- well, usually one -- long strand, that is always -- well, in my experience -- round. I mean, if you cut across it, you'd have a circle."

"And a flogger?"

Amused at being the expert on something so unimportant, Harry leaned back in his chair. "Has multiple tails, usually flat -- the whole thing is milder than a whip, on average, but they vary a lot based on the weight and width and number of the tails. Oh, and the length of them. And material -- all of mine are some sort of leather."

"And you had stick-like things."

"Crops. Meant for horses, and meant to be mild, but painful if you hit with the shaft." Harry grinned. "Of course, I really whale down with them -- not what one's supposed to do to a horse these days, I'm sure. And a switch, which is more pliant. The flat thing is a paddle, but also leather -- not as rough as wood." His eyes flashed up to meet Snape's. "Would you like a tour of how each feels?"

"I ..." Severus lowered his head. "Yes, please."

Harry wasn't convinced that Severus believed that he wanted it -- but experience led him to believe he could make it true. "I'd enjoy that," he said, rising. He shot Severus a challenging look. "Of course, I'm likely to enjoy it quite a lot, and I don't think rubbing against you until I come in my clothes is going to satisfy me this time."

Severus nodded. "I ... yes. I'll do what you ask."

"Hm." Harry shrugged. "Not exactly inviting, but I suppose it will do." He led the way to his bedroom.  
Harry went through each item, demonstrating the harshest qualities only briefly. He spent quite a lot of time with the paddle getting Snape's arse cheeks an even burning pink. The switch, left for last, raised narrow welts across that, and each line left Harry wanting to fuck him more. Finally, he laid it across the top brace of the rack and ran his hands over the marks he had made.

"God, your skin is so hot! I've done quite a job on you."

Severus went unnaturally still. "Yes, Harry."

"Relax, will you? I'm not a Dark Lord." Leaning forward, Harry blew softly along Snape's skin, and the man shuddered. After checking the clock -- had they really been an hour at that? -- he reached for the lube. "Shall we change the pace for a moment?" he murmured, and he stroked down Snape's arse again, exploring the cleft between his cheeks.

"Wha--" Severus tensed.

"Shh." Harry teased a slicked up finger around his hole. "I want your arse, you know. Rather badly."

"It's ... wet."

Harry paused. That indicated an alarming lack of experience. "You've never done this, have you?"

"A few times."

"Oh?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"In school," Severus muttered. "Once since."

"And some idiot schoolboy took you dry?" Harry demanded. He started to work around the area again, intentionally not pushing in yet.

"I ... Yes?"

"Well, I suppose I don't have to worry about you huffing over the quality of the lubricant, then." Harry reached around and began stroking Snape's cock. "See? Just lube. And if that little interlude brought you down any, you must have been hard as a rock." He ran his lips along the thin outer whorl of one ear. "Draco says you're just playing me, but I don't half believe it. You get so hard when I touch you. Is it just a potion? Or do you want me?"

Severus made a strangled noise. "I want you," he said faintly.

"Yeah? You like it when I mark you up, don't you? All those lines that show I claimed you, even if just for an evening."

Severus was pushing into his hand now, incidentally rocking back against him. Harry smiled to himself and used his other hand to resume rubbing at his hole.

"Merlin," Severus muttered, and Harry made a pleased sound and began to work the tip of his finger in.

"God, you're tight. I doubt I'm getting my cock in there tonight."

"Can't you just push?"

"I'd hurt you!" Harry laughed. "_Harm _you, I mean."

"Nothing you should worry about," Severus said dismissively. "I know healing spells for there."

"I am _not _going to leave you needing a healing spell! Honestly!" Abruptly, Harry freed Severus from the cuffs. Severus rubbed at his wrists.

"I did not intend to displease you," he said sourly. "If you will remember, I promised I would do as you said. You were not particularly subtle about stating you would want sex."

"You need to let me _say, _Severus," Harry countered. "And don't worry, I will. But first we're going to move to a bed." Harry caught his arm. "No, not here. You know Draco's opinion on that. Your room. Let me just grab a few things from my drawer."  
In the guest room, Harry flopped down on the bed, but then rolled to his side. "Now," he said, "I want you to suck me. Do you think you can manage that?"

Severus nodded. "Of course."

Still, as he was facing Harry, it was clear he was only half-hard._ Still half though_, Harry mused. "Not right away, though," he said, and patted the bed in front of him. "Here, first. On your stomach."

Snape's cock gave an interested twitch, Harry noticed. He wondered what the man was thinking. Snape lay down compliantly, and Harry straddled one of his legs. He licked along several of the marks on his back, and then bit at one on his arse. Severus moaned.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "You like that." Still playing along the marks with his tongue and lips, he resumed toying with Severus's hole.

"M'not gonna fuck you," he muttered against Severus's skin, as he worked the tip of his finger inside. "Not tonight. Just playing a little."

"I _will _do what you want," Snape said. "I meant it."

"Relax, then."

"I'm _trying._"

Harry growled and bit again, making the body beneath him jerk forward. He added more lube and pushed his finger in deeper, getting through the inner ring. "That's it." Shifting up, he worked his free hand between Severus and the mattress to grope his cock as well as the space would allow. "You're hard again. I like that." Even as he was speaking, he began to rock his own erection against the back of Snape's leg. "And I'm fucking aching. I want that blowjob." He bit again as Severus tried to squirm away. "No. _Want. _But not yet." Snape was starting to loosen around his twisting finger. He reached deeper. "Yeah. Good."

Snape's breath caught, and Harry laughed, the sound low and shaky. "_Very _good." He let go of Severus's erection and reached for one of the things he had brought from the other room. "Now, I'm going to put a harness on you. Just let the straps tighten -- they know where to go." A whispered charm, and the heap of leather began to move, like an untangling nest of snakes. They slithered across Severus, one encircling each thigh, and two connecting straps unfolded to let another wind around his waist. Smooth brass buckles tightened on each.

"What is it?"

"You'll see." Smoothly, Harry slid his finger out and set a slender butt plug in its place. He pushed and twisted, coaxing it in.

"That's not your finger."

"No, but it's scarcely wider. Relax again. It's just a little toy."

"I ... May I ask what it does?"

"Since I haven't told you not to, yes. It's going to keep you that much open until I take it out." Harry slid a connector down the two wide snaps that came from Snape's waist. "And this will help it stay in while you suck me." In a quick fall to the side, he was on his back, displaying a blood-dark erection. Deliberately, he stroked his hand up it, holding tight over the head for a moment before lifting his hand away. "Come on. Do it now."

Awkwardly, Severus crawled over to him. Without preliminaries, he took Harry's cock in his mouth and began loosely to move up and down. It was wet and hot and nicely deep, if not at all nuanced. Severus went until he was gagging, then moved up, caught a breath, and started again. Harry began to develop the uncomfortable feeling that he wasn't enjoying it at all.

"Hey," Harry said after the third time, "it doesn't have to all be that deep, you know."

"Sorry." Severus looked up. "You're not moving."

"Nah, I thought I'd let you do the work." Harry kept his tone light, although again, the comment worried him. "Don't want to choke you. Though actually, you seem to be doing that on your own."

Severus looked thoughtful for a moment, and then his face twisted. "Rabastan had this sport," he said quickly.

"With you?"

"No, but -- He would take a girl down the throat until she threw up, and then make her clean it."

Horrified, Harry stared at him.

"I'm afraid I am not entirely sure what you want, after all," Severus confessed.

"Right." Harry bit his lip and tried to refocus. "If Draco was here, I'd have him show you. Do you remember what he did to you?"

"Vaguely. It was wonderful, but..."

"But it's all a haze from ... what did you call it? An excess of sensation."

"Yes."

The logical solution, Harry thought, would be to move into a reciprocating position and have Severus attempt to mimic what was done to him. He found himself reluctant to do that. The thought of Draco giving Severus lessons on pleasing him had taken hold, and was too sweet an image to spoil with overly explicit instruction.

"Swing around so you're perpendicular to me," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I told you to!" Harry answered, but when Severus had moved, he reached over and stroked his hip, and then his wilted cock. "Because I like touching," he elaborated. "I want you in reach. Now, I want you to wrap your hand around the base of my cock, okay?"

Severus looked briefly amused. "As you wish."

"What are you thinking?"

"That you are shameless, as well as pushy."

Harry grinned. "But you're starting to get hard, again."

"Of course I am," Severus said loftily. The effect of the tone was rather altered by having him naked on his knees and elbows, Harry thought. "I'm being fondled."

"Add a little flattery," Harry coaxed, and Severus shivered.

"Fondled quite expertly by a handsome young man," he amended.

"Very nice." Harry stretched overhead to reach his wand, and with a tap set the butt plug to moving slightly inside Severus. "There's a little more sensation for you to ride on. Now just put your mouth over the head of my cock and explore. See how many ways you can use your tongue, or your lips, or the sides of your mouth. No deeper than you can go with your hand in place, now. Draco will instruct you on deeper."

That worked better. Harry was vocal when Severus did something right, and Severus responded eagerly, pumping mindlessly into his hand as he inexpertly serviced Harry with his mouth. Images of Draco's lessons raced through Harry's head until the combined sensation brought him to his peak. Severus coughed a little, but swallowed all of it, and Harry slid down under him.

"What are you--?"

"I'm going to suck you," Harry stretched up to lick at his erection. "Because I _like _it, understand? You have a gorgeous cock." He took it in his mouth and rolled around the tip of it, while with his hands he undid the buckle on the strap around Severus's waist. With just a little nudge, the upper straps tumbled down, giving him access to the butt plug, which he moved in concert with his mouth.

Severus came silently and copiously, flooding his mouth with thick and bitter fluid.  
"Was I adequate?"

"Yes." Harry had moved back up to use the pillow, but Severus had lain down in place, his cheek resting on Harry's thigh. With a satisfied sigh, Harry ran his fingers through Severus's hair. It was fairly clean -- he vaguely remembered Draco going after him about it the day before, perhaps to some effect. "And it would be hot to turn you over to Draco for instruction," he said lustfully. "Would you like that? Being told precisely how to please me?" He tugged at the hair in his fingers, but Severus either didn't understand the signal or ignored it.

"I doubt that would be advisable, considering Mr. Malfoy's attitude towards me."

"Don't take that too seriously. Hey. Come up and lie beside me, dammit. Don't you know _anything_?"

"This is, I'm afraid, outside my areas of expertise."

"Apparently. Kiss me."

"But I just--"

"Believe me, I'm happily aware where your mouth has been, and I expect you to deal with where mine has been. Now kiss me."

Severus was clumsy at that too, but acquired direction from example. Harry murmured his pleasure as their lips parted.

"Draco would do it," he said. "And if you're enjoying me as much as I think you are, he's the one you need to win over." He kissed Severus again, quickly. "You seem to be holding _my _interest."

"Why isn't that sufficient? He obeys you, from what I've seen."

"So? I want him _happy_. He's my lover, my packmate, and as wolves we're -- there is no single word to express everything he is to me. His opinion on this household is as important as mine. You can't ignore him and stay past the month."

Severus considered this. "But if he accepted me?" he asked.

"Perhaps. Most likely." Harry nudged him. "Try talking to him tomorrow -- I'll be off in London."

"London? Whatever for?"

"Oh." Harry rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He could feel his face heating. "I'm, uh, pardoning Lupin. Officially. I've still told him -- via Black -- to stay away from me and Britain."

"You're _what_?" Severus snapped. "That irresponsible imbecile? Why?"

"I'm just .... I realized I was tired of it. All that baggage. Vengeance." He looked at Severus finally. "Don't you ever get _tired _of it?"

Severus stared back at him for a very long time. Finally, he looked away, down at the bedcovers.

"Perhaps."

"Right." Harry rolled back onto his side. "So forget it. What did it ever get you?" He grabbed the dangling strap from the harness and yanked Severus close. "This is better."  


_Epilogue_

 

"Don't worry," Harry soothed, as he eased the wide flare of the butt plug into their bound and prepared prisoner. "You'll like it."

"And if I don't?" Severus snapped. The acid bite of his question suffered from a catch in his breath as the plug slid further in, stretching him wider.

"Hm. Well, then it will just have be enough that _Draco _likes it."

Draco sniggered, but his expression softened as he approached. "You know you'll enjoy it, Severus."

"I don't recall that you enjoyed it with Fenrir."

"That was just mocking me, and you know it! I was terrified, I was injured, and I was being tortured." Draco dropped down to a crouch in front of Severus, and ran his thumb down his cheek. "Most importantly," he said softly "I didn't want to be his."

Harry lifted their prisoner's hair and kissed the back of his neck. "And you want to be ours, don't you Severus?"

With a catch of breath, Severus nodded. "Just -- the binding. I want my wand."

"I know." Harry kissed him again. Gently, he tugged at the ring they had attached to the end of the plug, making it shift inside Severus, who gasped. "But you're afraid. And if you panicked and ran, you'd be too proud to come back, and you _do _want this. We discussed it. You agreed to it a week ago."

"That was a week ago!" Severus protested, and Harry managed not to laugh. It was minutes until moonrise -- he could feel the queasy shifting of his innards as it neared -- and he couldn't blame Severus for being afraid.

"We'll let you loose if something goes wrong," he promised. He tipped his head at the few strands of leather holding the cuffs looped over the lower bar in the bedroom. "My wolf can chew through those in minutes." Confidently, he slid a hand down to play with Severus's soft cock. "And Draco does so want to fuck you. It will be therapeutic for him -- for all of us, I think." The queasy feeling was intensifying, but it mingled with a strange lust, now. Severus smelled good -- of fear and man and lubricated silicone -- and his cock was swelling in Harry's hand. Harry pushed up against him.

"I hope I can let him," he muttered. "I'm going to want you first. _I _get you first."

Draco lifted his head from biting their prisoner's nipples. "Oh, you can go first," he said, "as long as I get him too. Would you like that, Severus?" he said coaxingly. "Both of us in you? Claiming you?"

"You'll lose control," Severus said. "You'll lose control, and I'll bleed to death, and you'll probably eat me--"

"Oh, believe me," Draco drawled, "if I eat you, you'll enjoy it."

"You'll be fine," Harry soothed. "I'll bite you right before moonset, in case something goes wrong, but nothing will. You brewed the Wolfsbane potion; it will work. You stayed with us last moon, remember?"

"Yes, but--" Severus let out an angry huff. "I've changed my mind. I want my _wand_."

Draco squirmed and whined. Harry felt his voice drop into a growl.

"Too late."  
_There was sweat on his skin, and then there was pain, and then he was fully where he was, as a wolf should be. His supplicant was there, babbling and reeking of fear, but he smelled of something else, too. The wolf and his love both licked and explored, until the man screamed himself out and went limp and silent. He found the ring and remembered. It was easy to grab in his teeth and pull; they had made it for that, he knew. It came out with a wet sound and a familiar scent. _

_The man twitched. He moved again, but not to struggle. Instead he quickly rolled to approximate the pose of a standing wolf, offering his opened body as clearly as if he had a tail to lift. He was panting._

_With an eager whine, the wolf reared up onto the man, pressing down on his shoulders. A few frantic thrusts and he was in, and it was hot, and it was good, and he twitched forward as his body responded again and again, filling their supplicant. His mate, his beta --Draco, his Draco -- was licking his bollocks, their bollocks, eager for their taste, eager for his turn. Emptied, the wolf rolled down, taking the man with him, and lay still, waiting to shrink down and watching Draco move his licking to the supplicant's front. _

_The man was sobbing now, but his fear smell was fading, and his lust smell rising, and he was pulsing forward against Draco's eager tongue. The wolf licked too, thoughtfully, at his shoulder. This would be a good place to bite. No. No, he remembered. They had chosen another spot, and he had to wait. After all, they wanted a new packmate, not a meal, and a man's skin was so fragile. _

_He slipped out of the man, finally, and watched him get up again -- watched in lazy satisfaction as his Draco entered him in turn. Yes. He would do well. _


End file.
